Compassion
by Random Clone
Summary: Boba Fett tries to capture a man's runaway son, but he doesn't anticipate a major change in events.
1. Default Chapter

Compassion

Oh yes. My whatever it's called. I'm having a major brain-freeze, excuse me. clears throat I OWN NOTHING WHATSOEVER! Not even the story-line, really. I got this idea from an old western movie called 'THE LONGEST HUNT'. This story is tweaked, of course. With that said and done, please excuse the credits. AGAIN, I don't how it relates to our dollar! And, the guy's name is pronounced Fee-DELL. NOT Fie-del.

"I want you to bring me back my son. I- I'll have you know that no one's been able to bring him back. Not even that other bounty hunter, Bossk." Boba Fett rolled his eyes, glad that his Mandalorian helmet obscured his face. "75,000 credits outta be sufficient. Oh yeah, and," swallow "No disintegrations." Carl Masdon looked every part of an anxious father. His big shoulders were hunched forward over a cup of caf that was dwarfed in his hands. His eyes were studying the caf intently, as if thinking that if he looked at the brown substance hard enough, he'd find his son. He continually chomped on his cigarra with nervous energy. Boba thought it almost ridiculous that a man this big and muscular could unravel so much by his son only running away. "His name's Fidel, and he's my wife's and my only son. H-here's a picture of him." Boba's gloved hand picked up the holo-picture and studied the young man in it, memorizing every detail. He appeared to be in his early twenties to late teens, had straight black –brown hair that hung shaggily in front of his black eyes. Since the holo was a close up, those were the only details that he could glean from the picture. "Where would you have me meet you?" Boba noted with amusement that Masdon nearly jumped out of his chair when he had asked the question. His employer gulped sorrowfully a few times before whispering, "You can look me up in my house on Corellia." Without a word, Boba Fett stood up and left.

So, how's the first chapter? I LOVE reviews but I'll sniff understand if you don't.

If you need more info on how the story's coming, look up my pen name, Clone Trooper. I was formerly known as Labluver.


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry this update was so long in coming. Been a BUSY week!

Chapter 2

"I'll have some Corellian Ale, please." The bartender looked at the young man in amusement. "Ya think you can stomach it, kid?" The 'kid' glanced up sharply. "If you would rather, I can take my business elsewhere." The bartender felt a grin creep on his face. "Say kid, what kind of accent is that? Sounds kind of 'latty-da'." The young man, whose name was Fidel, locked his gaze with the bartender's. "For your information, my accent is native to the planet Xenox (FYI- A French accent). Oh, and I remember saying something about an ale?" Scowling, the bartender set down a glass of Corellian brew. "That'll be 15 credits." Fidel nodded his thanks before tossing a credit chip on the counter. He'd been on the run ever since he could remember. He didn't know from whom, but as far as he was concerned, it didn't matter. His freedom was at stake. And he knew he would go crazy if that was taken away from him. Finishing his ale, he stood up and walked out of the cantina. Time to go off-planet. Again.

The kid was good; even he had to admit it. Even thought he'd only been in his trade for a few years, Boba Fett was already considered as one of the best bounty hunters in galaxy. Stepping inconspicuously (As inconspicuously as a Mandalorian can be) into a cantina, Boba silently made his way to the bar. Other than a noticeable lowering of conversation and people diving to get out of his way, no one acted any differently than before he had entered. Signaling to the barkeeper to give him service, Boba slowly sat down on a bar stool. "W-What can I do for you, Sir?" Boba looked at the barkeeper with something relative to disgust. "Have you seen this person?" he asked handing a picture of Masdon over the quaking man. The barkeeper studied the picture for a minute or so before Boba saw recognition wash over his face. "Yeah, yeah. This guy was in here a few hours ago. Thought he was a real hotshot too." Boba inclined his head by way of thanks, before tossing the 'keeper 30 credits. _Almost there._

"That'll be 100 credits, Son."

"Thank you." For once, Fidel was thankful that he had manners. People were _usually_ nice to you if you were nice to them. Usually. But that didn't mean he trusted them, not by a long shot. Bringing his mind back to the present, he surveyed his new purchases critically. He had bought himself some clothes only out of severe need. The ones he'd had were almost threadbare. The thing he was most pleased with were the black, knee-high boots, made out of imitation nerf-hide. The black pants went with the boots, as did his dark brown shirt. He'd had to search hard for the thing he needed most, though. A vest, to conceal his two blasters. Thankfully, he'd found a black one for a semi-reasonable price. Grinning in satisfaction, Fidel stepped out into the roasting heat of Tatooine. Before going anywhere, however, he surveyed his surroundings carefully. Bounty Hunters routinely tried to capture him. A sudden movement to his right caught his eye. He barely had time to react when the four large men came barreling at him on swoops. With reflexes honed by years of practice, Fidel spun around and dove inside the store he had just walked out of. _Speaking of the devil.. _Not taking the time to see if they had followed, he took off down the dusty street, looking frantically fora certain shop. Finally, he saw it, just 5 meters in front of him. Behind him he could hear the whine of the thugs' swoops as they tried to navigate the sharp switchback. It wouldn't be long before they found him. Entering the shop, Fidel cautiously looked around the dimly lit interior. Finding who he correctly assumed to be the proprietor, he headed over to him. "Y'anna buy a speeder, swoop, or hyperdrive? Y'annem , we gottem." Fidel almost grinned when he heard the wizened old man's sales pitch. "Ah, yes I'd like to buy the fastest swoop you have here." The old man squinted at Fidel critically. "I dun't think ya could handle it." Fidel felt his metaphorical hackles rise at this statement, and in response squared his shoulders. Well,he _usually_ used his manners... "I can handle a lot of things people don't think I can." He retorted hotly. "Aight, aight, don't get to fussin' like a bratty slave, I was just remarkin'. Ya look like yur in a hurry."

"Very perceptive of you, Sir" Fidel growled, his pride still smarting at the old man's remark. "Aight, in that case," here the old proprietor punched in a code to a closet in the back of his shop before continuing, "Here are the keys and that'll be 5,000 credits." While Fidel dug in his pocket hoping that he had enough to pay for the swoop, the proprietor put a helmet and goggles down on the swoop. "Oh and yung man, these things come with the swoop." Fidel looked at him gratefully before handing him the credits. "Here you go Sir and thank you very much!" With that, Fidel hurriedly slapped on the helmet and goggles before backing the sleek machine out of the shop and into the street. Then he accelerated quickly, knowing that the swoop jocks wouldn't be far behind.


	3. Chapter 3

ALRIGHT! I finally remembered what it's called! A disclaimer! Ha! Alright, my disclaimer is that I own zilch.

Oh, and an absolute ecstatic thanks to Silver-Kalan, who completely encouraged me by reviewing my story. Thank You!

Chapter 3

Boba Fett stepped out of the _Slave I_ and into the oven-like heat of Tatooine. He had never liked Tatooine. Whoever wanted to live here was quite beyond him. The only good thing about this God-forsaken planet were the crime lords. They paid well and made it worth coming here. Brushing aside the distracting thoughts, he focused on the task at hand. Walking into one of the many alleys, Boba got out his comm-link. All he needed to do now was get in touch with his contact.

A standard half hour later, Boba was systematically searching the sand dunes on either side of the designated swoop trail. On a swoop himself, Boba didn't understand why people even attempted to make paths. It would be much easier and quicker to just ride over the dunes than to go through the hazardous canyons and gulleys. Maybe that was the idea… According to his contact, Masdon had taken off from Mos Eisley on swoop with a gang of guys behind him. _Great, just what I need,_ Boba thought grimly, _A group of wannabe bounty hunters trying to earn a few extra creds. Just great. __Well, they'll be_ _seeing a _real_ bounty hunter soon. _Boba had just rounded a sharp curve in the canyon when his scanner picked up three swoop signatures heading his way. Not wanting to be seen, Boba searched the walls of the canyon hoping to see an outcropping to provide some cover. He was not disappointed. A few meters above the sandy canyon floor he spotted a small cave, just large enough for him and his swoop. Turning the swoop sharply, he quickly maneuvered the small craft to the temporary shelter. And none too soon. Almost immediately the three swoops came into view. Dragging something behind them. They weren't going very fast, but if that bundle they were dragging was what Boba thought it was, the merchandise,_ his_ merchandise, would not be in the best condition. Making a quick change in his plans, Boba swung the swoop the swoop around and gunned the roughly gunned the engine, making it howl in protest. The looks on the faces of the three men was enough to tell Boba that they hadn't expected to see – or meet – anyone on their little escapade. Much less a bounty hunter. Recovering quickly, the three humans brought their crafts to a hover and drew their blasters. As Boba drew his own blaster, the thieves did a thing that surprised even Boba. No, it shocked him, to say the least. Instead of trying to blast him away, one of them tried to negotiate. "Look fella, we found this piece of trash first, so unless you want to be full of holes, I'd advise you to get your rear back to wherever Ya came from." Obviously thinking that he'd done a good job, the jock put a smug smile on his face and waited for an answer. "Well? What'll it be, Metalhead?" Ignoring the insult, Boba continued to look at him. He was rewarded by seeing him and his buddies start to squirm. Apparently, all their blasters and talk of putting holes in him was just bravado. They obviously knew now that this armor-clad man was one to be reckoned with.  
Boba allowed himself a small smile. He wondered what they would do if they found out that he was younger than they. "I was just passing through," Boba said in his vox-altered voice, "When I noticed that you were dragging something behind you. What is it." The leader looked at him incredulously for a second, and then managed to bark out a laugh. "Why do you wanta know, Mister High-and-Mighty? _We_ found it first. This stuff is _ours_." Boba turned his full attention to the swoop leader. "Show me what is in the bag behind your swoop." The man was really angry now. "Who in the galaxy do you think you _are_? Darth Vader!" Boba stared at him a full minute before answering, "I am Boba Fett." The result was humorous, even Boba had to admit it. Full silence for a minute, and then they all started apologizing at having caused "the most dangerous and proficient bounty hunter of all time any trouble" and said that if he wanted the remains of their friend (who they were dragging behind them in a bag), he could have him! Boba glanced inside the sack just to make sure they were telling him the truth. They were. Boba turned around and looked at the remaining three. "What happened to him?" The leader hesitated before answering. "Well, we were chasing this kid. And-"

"_Why _were you chasing him?" Boba asked in a deadly quiet voice.The leader averted his gaze from Boba's T-shaped visor. "Well," he said starting to dither a little, "We'd heard that there was a bounty on him, and me and my brothers needed some credits, bad." Yah. For blasters and ale and glitterstim. "We saw him go in a shop, so we decided to ambush him. Well, he somehow knew about it. And he took off on a swoop. So we took off after him, and Clancy, here, shot him down." The leader was starting to ramble. A sign of nervousness, usually. "Well, we got to where he was, and Brizal there," he indicated to the body in the sack. "He was the first one to get off his swoop and tackle him. Didn't know that the dang Sithspawn had a vibro-blade till it was too late to save Brizal." Boba drilled his gaze into the fidgeting man. "What did you do to the kid you were chasing." The human flinched before saying, "Well me and the brothers stunned him and tied him up." The man spoke hurriedly and shut his eyes when he was finished, obviously thinking that Boba was going to kill him. But that was not the way he did things. "Where did you leave him." The swoop leader gave him the coordinates and looked fearfully at Boba. "Do you need anything else?" Boba turned around and growled, "Since you have not displeased me, I will let you live. _This _time." The swoop leader's face immediately assumed a conciliatory smile. "Thank you, Sir!" Boba grinned underneath his helmet. Fear could be a beautiful thing.


	4. Chapter 4 alright, I finally remembered!

**Sorry this update took so long. Like I said, it's crunch time!**

**Chapter three or four (Sorry, I can't remember)**

The first thing that Fidel was aware of was the rope biting into his wrists and ankles. The next thing was the heat. It felt like he was roasting over a spit. Struggling to sit up, he tried to remember what had happened. Oh yeah. The swoop guys. _Looks like the end of the road,_ _Fi._ Well, at least he was going to die in relative freedom, rather than in a prison. Looking over the desert, he took in the sight (All that one can take in in the desert). He was tied up on the top of a relatively rocky dune, overlooking the Dune Sea. Seeing the rocks gave him an idea. He felt a smile creep on his face. Maybe this wasn't the end after all. Fidel twisted around, trying to get a 360 degree view of the area around him. The smile slowly transformed into a scowl. The galaxy could be so cruel sometimes. No sharp rocks were nearby. No chance to saw the ropes. Fidel sighed dejectedly, suddenly noticing how thirsty he was. Maybe this wasn't such a great way to die. Swallowing painfully, he laid back down and tried to sleep.

* * *

Boba sped over yet another sand dune. By his calculations, Masdon had been out in the Tatooine heat for almost 3 hours, which could be fatal. Boba's scanner started beeping insistently. A human life form just on the next rise. Topping the dune, he slowed the swoop until it was hovering. The scanner showed that Masdon was in the immediate vicinity. Shutting the swoop down, Boba got off and started walking the ridge of the dune. Glancing ahead, Boba saw a shape lying prone in the sand. Quickening his steps, he brought out a canteen of water -- he couldn't have his merchandise dying on him. When he reached the unconscious young man, he knelt down and checked his pulse. A bit slow, but that was to be expected. The immediate dangers now were heat stroke and dehydration, but first things first. Taking a vibro-blade, Boba cut the ropes off of Masdon, his purpose being to get the circulation going again. He somehow doubted that Carl Masdon would want his son back with no hands or feet. Sith, it was hot out here. "Decrease temperature to 75 degrees Fahrenheit." What Masdon really needed was shade, which you didn't get much on a planet such as Tatooine. Boba glanced at Masdon. He looked like he was in heat exhaustion, the beginnings of heat stroke. Sighing in resignation, Boba hauled Masdon over his shoulder and carried him to the swoop and laid him in the relative shade of the small craft. Kneeling beside him, he lifted Masdon's head and poured some water from his canteen into the young man's dry mouth. The only reaction Boba got was a weak cough, nothing more. Looking at Masdon again, Boba suddenly noticed that he wasn't sweating. Heat stroke. Cursing under his breath, Boba jerked off his Mandalorian helmet and placed it over Masdon's head, ordering the temperature down even more. Even though the helmet controlled his armor, it also had a miniature air conditioning unit in it. Blinking at the sudden brightness, Boba closed his eyes before sitting down beside his merchandise.

* * *

Fidel woke to a cold breeze on his face. Man, it felt nice. Forcing his eyes open, he was momentarily disoriented. He was looking at a twilight sky through a T. _I must be hallucinating, like I am this breeze on my face._ Everyone knew that it didn't get cold on Tatooine. "I see that you are awake." Fidel felt a sudden thrill of fear. He'd been caught. _Out of the frying pan, and into the fire,_ he thought wryly. It was over. Again. _No, don't think that. Those swoop jocks didn't take my blasters. I still have a chance._ Sitting up carefully, Fidel felt the helmet being lifted from his head and winced at the sudden change in temperature. "You need to drink." Hearing his captor's voice again, he turned around and studied him. Outwardly, he remained relatively calm. Inwardly, he was reeling from shock. _I sure made _someone_ mad to have made them hire Boba Fett. _"Drink this." Fidel took the canteen offered to him and eagerly drank all its contents. He felt rejuvenated almost instantly. Now all he needed to do was wait for the opportune moment….. Sighing, he leaned his head against the bounty hunter's swoop and closed his eyes.

* * *

Boba looked at Masdon's face. He looked younger in person than he did in the holo-picture. In fact, he looked to be about Boba's age. He wondered if he and Masdon would have been friends, had there been different circumstances. Shoving that thought angrily from his mind, Boba berated himself sharply. He had no business of thinking of Masdon as a human, or even a sentient life form. To do so would make him lenient and vulnerable. And in the hob of bounty hunting, he could afford neither. True, he was not cruel, he did not approve of unnecessary killing, but if he had to, he would kill without hesitation. Boba looked away from his prisoner and at the darkening sky. He would later regret that he did that.

* * *

Fidel slowly opened his eyes and glanced at Fett. Good, his back was turned. With painstaking slowness, Fidel reached under his vest and quietly unholstered one of his blasters.

* * *

Boba tensed, sensing movement from behind his back. It could be nothing more than Masdon shifting positions, but his gut feeling told him that that was not the case. Every instinct was screaming at him to attack. Whirling suddenly, he took everything in in a second. Masdon had somehow gotten a blaster, and was now pointing it at his (Boba's) chest. Not wasting a moment, he lunged and tackled Masdon, knocking the blaster away from him in the process, and tried to pin him to the ground. Boba expected it to be fairly easy; with Masdon recovering from both heat stroke and dehydration, but Masdon was fighting for his freedom, which gave him a slight edge. Gathering his feet under him, Masdon struck out, hitting Boba square in the chest and sending him rolling down the dune. He was able to stop himself before rolling too far down, but during that time, Masdon had gotten the blaster again.

* * *

Fidel hadn't expected a fight. He'd just thought that he's stun Fett and get outta there. He'd severely underestimated the bounty hunter. _Never underestimate an enemy, Fi, never._ Although he was loath to kill anyone, he would have to shoot Fett if he wanted out of this situation. Sighing in resignation, he thumbed the blaster to the highest setting and fired.

* * *

How's that for a cliffie? I love feedback, but if you don't have the time, don't worry about it! 


	5. Chapter 5

A-right. Here's ze next chapter for U. Sorry it took so long-- I have a monster of a head cold. Please forgive me? puppy dog eyes

Chapter five

Boba heard it before he felt it. The whine of the blaster reached his ears long before he felt anything. But he could do nothing. While falling down the sand dune, something had bitten him. He had felt it, but thought that it was nothing more than armor scraping against skin. But, as he now realized, he had been wrong, now knowing that he had been bitten by a Fire Orpon. Orpons were not deadly to things as large as humans, but if bitten, the poison _was_ strong enough to paralyze one for a few seconds. Boba thought of the ludicrousness of the situation. Of how something so small could play such a large part in killing, him, one of the best and most successful bounty hunters in the galaxy. Then beam of energy hit him. The blaster bolt caught him in the side of his abdomen where there was a gap in his armor. His flame retardant suit caught some of the energy, but was otherwise insufficient in blocking such concentrated energy. Boba bit back a scream. He'd had no idea that one could experience so much pain. Wave after wave of fire hot pain ran up his stomach unceasingly. Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, trying to get a look at how bad it was, but was forced to the ground again by the unrelenting sensation. The world started getting fuzzy. Boba felt himself teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, the blackness seeming to call him into its painless realm. Breath coming in shallow, painful gasps, Boba tried to fight it. But the pain was relentless, ramming into him again and again. Boba's will was slowly weakening as his body took on an odd numbness. Giving one last try to stay conscious, Boba rolled over onto his stomach, this time unable to keep quiet a scream of pain. Then there was nothing.

* * *

Fidel almost winced when he saw the blaster bolt hit Fett. The bounty hunter didn't wince or even moan when he had been hit. But after a few moments, he had tried to stand—and Fidel heard the consequence. _Big mistake, buddy, _Fidel thought with a grimace. Fidel had no wish to see Fett die---in this deadly game of cat and mouse, Boba Fett was doing his job and Fidel was doing his. Nothing personal. Just business. Fidel wrestled with what to do. His instinct told him to go down there and help him. His practical side told him not to—if he _did _save Boba Fett's life, then once Fett was well enough, he'd come after him again. Fidel looked at the fallen bounty hunter, torn. But eventually, his instinctive side won out. After all, Fett_ did_ save his life. Approaching Fett, he got his first look at the damage he'd inflicted. A dark stain of blood was quickly saturating the sand it fell onto. And the wound showed no sign of stopping. Fidel cursed softly under his breath. Hurriedly kneeling beside Fett, he applied pressure to the wound, ignoring the faint moan the bounty hunter gave. Trying to keep an even pressure on the gushing wound, and not wanting to think about what damage he was doing_ internally_ to Fett, Fidel maneuvered himself around so that he could carry Fett while still applying pressure. Grunting with effort, Fidel carefully slung Fett over his back, tottering slightly but staying upright. Then he began making the painstaking journey back to the swoop. Fett was a lot heavier than he looked. _It's probably all the hidden weapons he's got on him. Maybe I could just "borrow" them off him_… _That particular_ thought disappeared as suddenly as it came. Upon reaching the swoop, Fidel started the warm-up sequence on it before carefully placing Fett on the saddle in front of him. Turning on the engine, Fidel felt relief wash over him. At least the swoop wasn't damaged. _What a perfect ending to a horrible day,_ Fidel thought wryly before setting of for Mos Eisley.

* * *

Boba was in a haze, his mind flirting with the realms of unconsciousness and consciousness. He was dimly aware of being carried, but he couldn't be sure if it was reality or just a figment of his imagination. But right now, he didn't care. _I don't _want_ to fight it._ Boba tried to think of a reason _why _he didn't want to fight it. _Because I just don't care. _What was there that was worth living for? If he _did_ live through this, so what? All he would be doing would be satisfying peoples' thirst for revenge. For the first time in his young life, Boba really thought about how empty and meaningless his existence was. So what if he died? No one would mourn him. His competitors would be the only people that _really _cared if he lived or died. _Especially that _di'kut_, Bossk. _Not for the first time, Boba felt loneliness. But unlike the other times, this one completely and utterly enveloped him. He had never felt so alone. _I'm sorry Dad. I've failed you…._

* * *

Fidel shifted uncomfortably on the swoop. One thing was for sure—Fett sure didn't go out of his way to make things the _least_ bit commodious. Glancing at the machines built-in chrono, he estimated that they would arrive in Mos Eisley in roughly 15 standard minutes. Now came the _real_ problem—_what _in the name of the Force would he do with Fett when he got there! He most certainly didn't want to run into the swoop gang again. Yikes. _Alright, number one priority, evade stupid nerf herders. _The next obvious answer would be to take Fett to a medic. But there were a lot of people that would love to know that Boba Fett was badly injured and incapable of defending himself. And paying someone to keep silent was going to be very expensive indeed. But, in Fidel's opinion, a human life was worth more than all the credits in the galaxy. _But that doesn't mean that I won't kill. _In front of him, Boba Fett had started shivering uncontrollably. Fidel had done all that he could to stop the blood, but he was no field medic. Fett was obviously going to need treatment for shock he was going into. Fidel muttered angrily to himself. He didn't exactly have and inexhaustible supply of credits on him…

* * *

_A bounty hunter never surrenders to pain. A bounty hunter NEVER gives up. These things separate the _real_ bounty hunters from the mere wannabes…_ Boba mentally flinched. He had almost gone into the tempting blackness. After all, it promised him relief. Both physical, and mental. But something stopped him. Boba struggled to remember who had said those words to him.It seemed such a long time ago... _Jango Fett._ His Father. His mentor. _A bounty hunter _never_ gives up… _He had been a true bounty hunter. He had taught Boba all he hadknown, and how had his 'son' repaid him? By letting him die on the hot Geonosian sands, alone. And _this_ isall Bobahaddone to try and redeem himself? Mentally snarling at himself, Boba started fighting viciously for consciousness.

* * *

In the distance, Fidel could see Mos Eisley's lights twinkling at him, telling him that he was almost to the outskirts of the city. About five more minutes and he, and Fett, would be comparatively safe, from Tusken Raiders at least. In front of him, Fett flinched, his whole body shuddering from it. The regular breathing resulting from unconsciousness turned into shallow and ragged gasps. Fidel glanced uncertainly at Boba Fett. He assumed that this was a bad thing. Another shudder shook the bounty hunter's weak form, prompting Fidel to get a better hold on him. His relief was palatable as he passed the first structures of Mos Eisley. Now to find a medic….

* * *

Oh, and sorry I haven't been posting updates on my pen name thingy... They changed the edit thing, and I'm just so confused... ;( 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

After a few tense minutes of searching, (Fidel was insistent—people respond quickly when one points a blaster at them) Fidel managed to find a medic who had a private business and was fairly cheap (I wonder why). "What can I do for you, Sir? You do not appear to need medical attention…" The elderly medic's face turned to utter shock when he saw who Fidel carried in. "I'm not the one that needs it." _Di'kut. _Fidel said, mentally thinking the Mandalorian curse. "B-Boba Fett! I-we-I… Um, I'm not going operate on him! Or stick him in a bacta tank for _that_ matter! He's a bounty hunter! He's Boba Fett!" No, Duh. Fidel felt the strong urge to roll his eyes. Talk about pointing out the obvious… "Do you know what could_ happen_ to me if people found out that _Boba Fett_ was _here_! I could be killed! No no no, I can't take care of him." Fidel was starting to get anxious. Whatever Boba Fett was, he was _not_ invincible. "Sir, I'll pay the cost—plus more to make sure you don't, er, let the proverbial felinx out of the bag, concerning who you are taking care of right now." The medic squinted up at him. "How much more you talkin'?"  
Fidel grumbled inwardly before naming his sum. The medic scratched his nearly bald head. "I dunno, Son. That ain't exactly a fortune. But since it's more than I'd normally get, I'll help you out this time 'round." _Oh, you're too kind_. Helping Fidel carry Fett, they carefully placed the bounty hunter on an operating table before the medic started to carefully cut away the fabric and peel away the armor. With years of experience showing, the medic began gently prodding the wound, trying to get a ballpark figure about how much damage had been done. "How bad is it?" The medic continued his evaluation while answering. "Well the blaster bolt entered her, in the left part of his torso-"the medic lightly drew his hand over Boba Fett's stomach, simulating the bolt's path, "cracked two ribs and, I think, punctured his lung." Fidel fought the bile that was starting its inexorable climb up his throat. "What does _that _mean?" he asked uncomfortably. Medicine was definitely _not _his forte. The medic looked up from Boba Fett's heaving form. "Bacta submersion _immediately_. If he's not dunked soon, he'll cross to 'the other side' if you get my meaning." Fidel nodded. "Alright, go ahead. I'll pay you once he's in, and then leave…" The medic continued to look at him. "Wh-what! _You're the_ medic! I'm only paying!"  
"Listen, Young One," _Young _One! Who did this guy think he was? "I don't want to assume any responsibility for the condition Mr. Fett finds himself in when he wakes up, if you get my drift." Fidel did indeed 'get his drift'. He had been contemplating on how to solve this very predicament. "Uh, can't you just, you know, dunk him fully clothed?"  
"Oh yes, Son, we can! But what about his helmet?" The medic tapped his finger to his head. "I am _not_ going to be the recipient of his wrath when he comes to!" _Oh yes be afraid, be _very _afraid! _Fidel thought dryly. "But," the medic began thoughtfully, "I could submerge him from the waist down _only._" The medic nodded firmly. "Yep, that'll work." The old geezer smiled toothily at him. "Alright. Thanks, Sir. Um, here are the credits." Fidel deposited the payment into the medic's greedy hands. "Thanks again, Sir."

"No problem."


	7. Chapter 7

Alright, here's the next chapter… Please don't flame me for taking so long! I'm sorry! I had to lay brick-NEVER do that!- and I had a B-A-D cold!

Chapter 7

Physical consciousness was slow in coming. But when it did, Boba knew that it wouldn't be fun. _It's so odd how someone can be completely mentally aware, but not have any control of their body whatsoever… _He was jolted out of his thoughts by a dull pain in his stomach. That wasn't terribly surprising. Gradually, he began to become aware of his surroundings. Something was strapped around his chest. And it felt like a harness. _Oh great. Out of the palace and into the rancor pit. _Willing his eyes to open ('it feels like I have twenty pounds of Mandalorian iron on my head,' he thought with a groan), he was surprised, to say the least, to find that he still had his helmet on. Vaguely wondering why the lower half of his body was wet, he started to turn his head around, trying to get a look at his surroundings. Suddenly, he felt a hand grab his shoulder. _It's probably that _di'kut_, Bossk. _Reacting instantly, Boba spun around, or tried to, only to find that he was suspended in the air unable to do much more than swing his legs around uselessly.Momentarily confused, Boba tried to calm his racing mind (A very difficult thing when one is drugged up to one's eyes in pain killers). Trying to gather his thoughts, he reached down to engage his flamethrower, when the harness suddenly became taut, and jerked him upwards.

* * *

The medic nearly died out of astonishment when the bounty hunter tried to swing around and face him. By all rights, Fett should have been unconscious for at least another two hours. Adrenaline coursing, the medic reached over and pulled down a lever. Relief flooded his senses when he saw the hunter being lifted into the air, courtesy of a crane he had borrowed. When Fett was high enough, the medic, without thinking, reached out and grabbed the harness, simultaneously slamming his foot on the release button. Pulling backwards with all his might, he was semi-prepared when his patient came crashing down on him. Unfortunately, he wasn't as prepared when he opened eyes and saw that he was staring down the business end of the Hunter's blaster.

* * *

Boba looked at the quivering man cowering on the floor, a wave of embarrassment coloring his cheeks red. "P-please M-Mr. Fett! I didn't do anything! I only treated you!" Hmm. Now that he thought about it, he _could _feel a dull throb._ At least it's bearable, unlike the last time I was conscious…_ "I have questions. And_ you _are going to supply the answers." The poor man nodded vigorously in agreement. "Alright Mr. Fett, go ahe-""Who brought me here?" Boba interrupted sharply. He had a good idea, but it wouldn't hurt to ask. The man, presumably a medic, frowned in concentration. "Now that you ask, I really don't know. He didn't tell me his name, and I didn't think to ask." Seeing that this was _not_ the reply that Boba wanted, he had hastily added that he had security cams on all the time, including when he, Fett, had been brought in. But the medic had said it more like this: "Oh, Mr. Fett! I believe, oh wait, yes! No. Uuuh. Wait. _Here_ it is, the little Sithspawn! Hiding in the back of all the recordings! Good thing I'm a smart guy. Shop owners usually throw away old security recordings. But I don't! I pride myself in being the smartest--" Boba fought the (strong) urge to roll his eyes. "Just describe him," he growled, dangerously close to losing his temper. "Oh, yes, _Sir!_" The medic then proceeded to give Boba a full, very elaborate, description of Masdon. Boba grunted. Bizarre didn't begin to cover the situation. Either Masdon was incredibly stupid, and he somehow doubted that, or—well, he couldn't think of anything else that would possess some merchandise to turn in their wounded captor for medical treatment. _This is the oddest hunt _I've _ever been on._ The fact that Masdon might have a conscience didn't even cross his mind. Turning around, he was about to leave the room when the medic cleared his throat purposefully. "Sir. That will be Fifteen hundred credits. The boy that brought you in neglected to pay me. Oh, and I almost forgot. The er, _unorthodox, _way that I had to do bacta treatment, will cost you a bit extra, bringing the total up to two thousand credits." Boba slowly spun on his heel until he was facing the medic. He stared at him for a full minute, until the medic was good and squirmy, before briefly saying, "It was very wise of you to do the "Unorthodox" way instead of the conventional one. It would have been very—unpleasant—if you hadn't." The medic bowed his head, a look of professional satisfaction crossing his face. Once again, Boba turned around to leave, and once again, the elderly medic purposefully cleared his throat. _When will this guy ever learn! _Boba wondered with annoyance. "What is it?" Boba bit out. The medic, apparently not getting the hint, raised his eyebrows slightly and held out his hand. "Mr. Fett, you forgot to pay." Well where in the galaxy had the fear of Boba Fett gone? "You want to be paid." Boba stated rather than asked. The medic openly rolled his eyes and spoke as if he were talking to a young child. "Now, Fett. When someone helps you, they _usually_ expect to be paid. Now, I need to be paid. It cost a lot of time and credits to fix that_ very_ special bacta bath for you. Okay?"Boba slowly clenched his fists. No one had ever talked so condescendingly to him, and it was infuriating. "_What,_ did you say?" Boba said quietly, his voice as sharp and deadly as a vibro-blade. The medic drew himself up. "You heard me just fine, Mr. Fett." Oh. So now it was _Mr._ Fett again. Hmm… Boba stared at the medic for a minute. "You should be glad to have your head intact after what you just said." Boba leaned forward until he was centimeters away from the man's face. "It is extremely unwise to anger a bounty hunter, especially if it is Boba Fett." Turning around once more, he exited the building.

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

Sooooooo sorry! Two words: SCHOOL and SIBLINGS. Well, three words actually. So I'll try extra hard to post chapters. Oh, and this story is NOT about Fidel's compassion on Fetters! It's about someone else's…

P.S. Reviews motivate me, sooo…. REVIEW! (Please!)

Chapter 8

"Get up."

Fidel jerked his head around at the sound of the gravelly voice. Standing behind him was none other than Boba Fett. Knowing that he couldn't get away with the same trick twice, Fidel slowly stood up and raised his hands in the air.

"Drop your weapons on the floor."

Fidel did as he was told, careful not to make any sudden movements.

"Get in front of me and keep your hands where I can see them."

Sighing in defeat, Fidel did as ordered, keeping his hands well away from his body. He soon felt the expected coldness of the binders being slapped on his wrists. He shook his head in amazement. No bounty hunter had ever found him so quickly, in such a short amount of time. It had been four days since Fidel had dropped the injured hunter off, and four days usually gave him more than enough time to 'disappear' off the face of the galaxy. Not so with this one, unfortunately.

"Move."

* * *

The door to Fidel's cell made a dull clang as it was shut. Fidel shivered involuntarily. The cell itself was, in all respects, not that bad. Sure, it wasn't a suite in one of Coruscant's finest hotels, but compared to _some_ cells he'd been in, this one bordered on luxurious. Cleanliness, Fidel decided, was a big part of the equation. Yawning, he decided to take advantage of the small cot that was in his cell. It wasn't as if this place was chock full of things to do….

* * *

Boba sank tiredly into the _Slave I's_ cockpit seat. He'd overdone himself. The partially healed wound in his side throbbed dully in protest of being overworked. Two days of hard searching had rewarded him with his quarry, but had drained him completely of strength. Sitting up slowly, he punched in the coordinates to Corellia and sent the _Slave_ into hyperspace. Sighing tiredly he leaned back into his chair and fought to keep his eyes open. But, as gravity has a tendency to do, his eyelids became heavy and started droop. _Just five minutes…_

_

* * *

_

Five hours later found Fidel wide-awake in his cell, counting dust specks. This experience gave new meaning to the word, "bored". And even worse than that, he was starving. He had only eaten once or twice from the time he dropped Fett off to the time the bounty hunter had picked him up. His stomach growled loudly. Fidel glanced down at it. "Sorry about that, friend," he murmured sympathetically, 'There ain't nothing I can do about it." He got an angry rumble in reply.

* * *

Boba sat up, momentarily confused. _Oh, fierfek._ Standing up, he glanced at his chrono with a yawn. Five hours! He'd slept for five _hours!_ He'd meant to feed his merchandise right after the jump into hyperspace. Cursing silently, he slowly made his way down to the cell, pausing momentarily on the ladder. His thoughts had inexplicably strayed to his Father and Zam. _Zam_. She'd been the closest thing to a mother that he'd ever had… And Jango had killed her, to keep her silent. Boba frowned slightly. He didn't harbor any anger towards his Father for killing her--Zam would have done the same. It had been a sort of unspoken agreement between the two. No, he didn't feel anger, only sadness at what had happened, the first in the line of lugubrious events that had followed. Sighing deeply Boba remembered each event in painful clarity. His body may have been in the _Slave_but his mind was light years away.

* * *

Fidel was staring at the ceiling. Again. This was getting old. Being tired (and not able to sleep), hungry, and cold, all at the same time didn't help matters, either. Eyes starting to stray all over the room, they eventually landed on the floor. Or rather, what was _on_ the floor. Right in the middle of his cell sat a small trandila, a very poisonous animal with serpentine qualities (in essence it was a snake). Fidel's eyes widened. Although trandila's weren't overly aggressive, they possessed an acute sense of curiosity. And, if they decided that something was a threat, they bit it—and in most cases, the bite-ee died. _Don't come over here…_ _Don't come over here…_ Unfortunately, the trandila did not listen to his silent pleas and slowly started slithering over. Fidel glanced around the small cell trying to find something to throw at it, but of course he didn't see anything. As the trandila became more and more curious, Fidel started backing up slowly. But his retreat was stopped by the wall of his cell. So, hoping fervently that the bounty hunter would be able to hear him, Fidel gave a bloodcurdling, "FETT, there's a TRANDILA in here _WITH_ ME!"

Even though it was not meant to be, the result was beyond hilarious. Fett somehow managed to spin around, obviously forgetting that he was on a ladder as he did so. Arms pin wheeling wildly, he desperately tried to grab hold of something, but to no avail. The consequence to _that_ action was landing spread-eagle in front of Fidel's cell, who by now was laughing hysterically. When Fidel saw Fett begin to stand up, he tried to turn his attention to the situation at hand. But even seeing the trandila start to swell up couldn't keep the grin off his face, or stop the spasms that were wracking his body.

* * *

Boba groaned silently as his stomach connected with the deck. If his wound had been throbbing dully in protest, then it was protesting with _great _earnest now. Grimacing, he stood up, his legs feeling as wobbly as a new-born suubatar's. Getting his pain more or less under control, he then turned his attention to his prisoner, who was futilely trying to stop laughing. Boba just stared at him, knowing full well that not many sentients could endure his T-shaped visor glare for long. Gradually, the smile on Masdon's face melted. But Boba could see that his eyes were dancing.

"WHAT. DO. YOU. WANT."

Boba injected as much coldness into his voice as he could. Masdon shrugged, suddenly remembering that a certain creature was in his cell.

"I-uh," cough "thought that you might want to know that there's a trandila in here. In my cell. As in, RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME!"

So saying this, he pointed hysterically to an extremely irate-looking reptile, which was advancing slowly towards Masdon, all the while hissing threateningly.

"S-so are you going to do anything about it?"

Masdon asked, with a panicked voice, trying to all but climb up the walls. Not answering, Boba drew his blaster and with one shot disintegrated the trandila, before going to his storage closet and tossing Masdon a protein bar.

"Enjoy."


	9. Chapter 9

Hey! I'll try to be more reliable in updates and everything, but as I said before: SCHOOL.

Chapter 9

_I'll be back Son. I promise. _Boba watched as Jango jetted into the arena and joined the battle, dropping one Jedi after another with his deadly aim. And he watched as the dark-skinned Jedi killed him, leaving Boba without a friend in the galaxy. _I'll be back…_

Boba jolted awake, shaking and soaked with sweat. He'd had that dream before, but it had never been so vivid... Even though his Father had been half-way across the arena, Boba had heard the metallic clang as Jango's helmet hit the arid ground. The same helmet that he had on now. Suddenly feeling claustrophobic, Boba yanked it off his head and drew in a shaky breath. _Beep,beep, beep…_ Still feeling the after-effects of his nightmare, Boba squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head before getting up and going to the cockpit.

* * *

"Of all the pieces of junk in this galaxy, you are the worst, you _di'kut._" 

When Boba had entered the cockpit of the _Slave _a few hours ago, the low fuel gauge had been blinking. Normally, not a problem. But when he had landed to refuel, he saw that the _Slave's_ fuel line had eroded through. And depending on the quantity and quality of the products that the local store-keepers had, he could be stuck here anywhere from one day, to one month. _Those are the consequences of not inspecting your ship, _and _of landing on some rotten backwater planet such as this._ In a rare show of anger, Boba slammed his fist into the _Slave's_ hull. And to top it all off, other bounty hunter's might get wind of his situation and try to steal his merchandise. Boba growled at the very thought of it.

* * *

"What, did you say!" 

The security guard glanced up from his papers. "Just what I said, Sir. Randia is not an advocate of jails, or of holding people against their will. Unless you un-bind this young man here, you will have to leave."

Boba glowered at the guard, who dismissed them with a nod of his head. Someday, people everywhere were going to respect him. Everyone in the galaxy, even the ones on this backwater planet, Randia, was going to feel the cold hand of fear at the very mention of his name. Someday….

* * *

"Get up." 

Fidel sat up groggily, rubbing his eyes as he did so. Oooh he felt terrible. Like a couple hundred nerfs had stampeded over him…

"Get,_ up._"

Fidel felt Fett grab the scruff of his shirt and jerk him to a standing position. Well_ someone_ got up on the wrong side of the bunk…

* * *

"I'm sorry, Sir, but binders are not permitted on Randia." 

Boba almost howled with frustration. Experimentally, he had gone to the other side of the spaceport to try and get through… And to no avail.

"Then would you kindly tell me what _is _allowed on this planet?" Boba all but snarled.

"Well Sir, if you're having trouble with this vrelt, then you can purchase some rope. But no binders are allowed, I'm sorry to say."

Boba studied the young man in front of him, while taking the binders off of Masdon. He seemed to look at the bounty hunter with something akin to, well, _excitement _oddly enough.

"Here," Boba said as he handed the binders over to the guard. The guard inclined his head. "Thank you, Sir."

Boba nodded his head before grabbing Masdon by the arm, and training his blaster on him. As he walked off he heard the young guard say softly, "Good luck, Boba Fett."

* * *

Randia 5 was tropical planet, situated beyond the Outer Rim territories. A third of the planet was covered in fresh water oceans, and the other two thirds in thick, silver jungles. And with jungles, came humidity. And with humidity, came flies, _hoards_ of them. 

"Hey Fett, you got anything in your equipment that kills Randian Blood Flies?"

Fidel got a shove in answer. Ever since they had left the spaceport, Boba Fett's temper had gone from bad, to worse. Fidel could tell by the way his arm had gone from aching, to completely numb. Right now, as far as Fidel could tell, they were heading to get some rope. _Just my luck, _he thought cheerfully. With ropes, he had a chance to escape. And maybe by some twist of fortune, get some sympathetic natives on his side.

* * *

Boba watched the Randian aboriginals carefully, trying to gauge their reactions on seeing a stranger willfully disobeying one of their laws by tying someone's hands. For the most part, they all ignored him, and Masdon. Up ahead, a young Randian male (Although not terribly educated in alien anatomy, Boba deduced that Randian males were larger and had bright blue skin, while Randian females were smaller and had dull silver skin.) barreled around a corner and, being unable to stop in time, cannoned into Masdon, who tried valiantly, but futilely, to keep standing. Masdon fell in a heap, followed closely by the randian. Boba muttered angrily under his breath before holstering his blaster ad jerking the offending randian to his feet and shoving him away from Masdon snarling, "Get out of here!" 

Turning his attention back to Masdon, he also jerked him to his feet and ordered him to start walking, not knowing, not suspecting, that the incident had been purposeful.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Fidel was still dazed about what had just occurred. When the Randian had run into him, it had surreptitiously shoved a small vibro-blade into his pocket before whispering in his ear that "A sufficient distraction will happen soon, with the purpose of misleading your captor. During that time _this _will enable you to free yourself." Fidel felt the reassuring weight of the vibro-blade in his pocket. Although he was 100 sure that he could slip the blade out unnoticed, the hard part would be turning it on. The slight hum that an activated vibro-blade made might be enough to alert the wary bounty hunter. Fidel clenched his jaw, determined that this time he would escape.

* * *

"Ah, good and gracious Sir! May I interest you in some of my goods? These are the very best of traps in all of Randia!" Boba shouldered past the elderly Randian, who was calling out her sales pitch in a whispery, throaty voice typical to all Randians. The Randian capital, Sliven, was very crowded, with silver-gray and blue bodies shoving past each other, each trying to get to their appointed designations on-time when they were already 10 minutes late. Boba shook his head, glad that he didn't have to go through this every time he went on a hunt. He was rudely jolted out of his thoughts by something slamming into the back of his helmet. Snapping into combat mode, he spun around, blaster raised—to face an irate-looking female Randian glaring up at him. The Randian in question barely reached his chest, but that didn't seem to deter her in the least. Lifting her cane, she brought it down solidly on Boba's helmet, shoulders, and any other place she could reach all the while screaming in a high-pitched voice, "I can't _believe _that you just did that, you Vronk! Get _away _from me, _now!_ Didn't your Mother ever teach you manners!" _Guess not,_ Boba thought angrily, before the elderly Randian stood up on the tips of her toes and grabbed hold of his helmet, shoving her face right in front of his, continuing to rant and rave. As if on cue, Randians from all sides started surging in around him, jostling him so much that he almost lost his grip on Masdon. With angry snarl he ripped his helmet away from the still-screaming female and tried to get a better hold on his merchandise.

* * *

This was it. His chance to escape. Fidel slowly brought his hands to his front pocket and reached in, straining a bit and hoping that Fett didn't notice. He could feel the cold handle of the vibro-blade brushing against his fingers. Thrusting his hand in a little deeper, he was finally able to grab it, albeit barely. Taking a deep breath to calm the butterflies swarming in his stomach, he thumbed it on.

* * *

Boba froze. Something here wasn't right. (What, besides the fact that an insane old lady is trying to whack the brains out of him?) Every instinct was telling him to get out of there _right now._ Jerking out his blaster he pointed it skyward and fired three shots, simultaneously backpedaling and dragging Masdon with him.

* * *

Fidel had to give it to the Randians: what they lacked in brawn they more than made up for it in creativity. He couldn't have asked for a better distraction. Apparently the vibro-blade's hum _didn't_ alert the bounty hunter. _Al…most… there…_ Fidel started sawing at the ropes as vigorously as he could without being noticeable. Almost immediately they gave nicking his wrist in the process. But Fidel didn't even notice the pain.—he was too busy feeling the exhilaration of being free, from the ropes, and from Fett. Unfortunately, it was short lived. He suddenly felt himself falling backwards, and without thinking, he twisted around to try and stop his fall throwing his hands out in the process. He hit the ground hard, his fall being only partially broken. Knowing now that time was _really_ of the essence, he scrambled up as quickly as he could, but was suddenly assaulted by little black dots dancing in his vision. Fortunately, as suddenly as the sensation had come, it was gone; only to be replaced by a black **T**- shaped visor staring at him. Wasting no time he charged, hoping to catch the hunter by surprise. No such luck. Fidel had always thought that he was an exceptional fighter. But to his surprise, and chagrin, Boba Fett was better. The bounty hunter waited until Fidel was right on top of him before sidestepping and booting Fidel behind the knees, causing his legs to buckle. Fidel's head pounded. He was done for; finished. He'd messed up his only chance of escape. _Or not_. With a deafening roar the Randian onlookers surged around Boba Fett nearly knocking him to the ground. Fidel felt himself being hauled up and gently pushed in the opposite direction of the hunter. Yelling a quick "thank you" Fidel shot off in the direction that he had been directed. _This is a backwater planet, no one here's gonna take you off-planet._ Fidel grimaced at the realization. As much as he hated it, he'd have to stick around for a while.

* * *

Boba was livid. According to the Randians, he'd just broken one of their laws. And soon, he was to be tried. Boba vaguely wondered what his punishment would be (not that he'd allow them to carry it out), since they didn't allow prisoners on their beloved planet.

* * *

"_Excuse _me?" The appointed judge looked at Boba calmly. "That is your sentence, Sir." The notorious Boba Fett had rarely, if ever had a conversation. But he had _never_ been at a loss for words. Until now, that is. "That is a highly illogical way of dealing with crime," Boba hissed through clenched teeth. He had been prepared to hear what punishment he'd be given, but the judge's castigation completely floored him. "You find your punishment—unfair?" One of the jury asked quizzically. "But why? With our one-sentence-for-all-misdemeanors, our crime rate is the lowest in the galaxy."

"Well I wonder why," Boba said sarcastically. The judge raised his ring-adorned hand to stop any further comments. "We do not have the time for this. Fortunately your sentence will be carried out painlessly. Our scientists have developed a drug that will dispense of you as quickly and as comfortably as possible." _Right. _Boba grimaced inwardly at the repulsiveness of the idea. Death as the punishment for every type of crime, from the smallest of thefts, to the most grisly of murders. "Alright Mr. Fett, if you would just roll up your sleeve to here and relax you won't feel a thing." _It looks about the right time for me to get out of here._

_

* * *

_

_Great. Just great. _Fidel sat on his wrecked land-speeder and fumed. _Dang piece of junk_. The machine had worked fine when he'd tested it at the rental shop. But now, roughly 40 kilometers from the city, it had decided to stop operating. Fidel had tried for the past few hours to try and fix it: but the problem was too great for Fidel's limited mechanical expertise. "Oh, for yelling out loud," Fidel muttered angrily, after glancing at the sky. To top everything off, it was getting dark. _Force knows what creatures come out after dark on _this_ sith forsaken planet..._


	11. Chapter 11

So SORRY. Words cannot express my sorrow at not updating at a regular rate. I'll try get more chaps up soon! Merry CHRISTmas!

Chapter 11

* * *

Boba was fuming. How in the _galaxy_ had he gotten into this mess! In his whole career, no one had EVER escaped him more than once in a single hunt. Yet this wapper-jawed youngster had. Twice. And that irked him_. This better not damage my reputation. If it does, that Masdon is going to _get_ it—bounty or no…_

"I need a swoop, a fast one."

* * *

_Crack._ Fidel jumped involuntarily. _Man, I'm getting jumpy. That lack of sleep must be getting to me…_ Yeah, that was it. He wasn't scared. He was just—tired. Of course, being out in the middle of some jungle with no transport, and no blaster, and it getting dark, _could_ have that effect on you. _Alrighty, I can either stay put and set up what could pass for a camp, or I can walk through the dark, scary jungle. Hmm… _Fidel opted for the camp.

* * *

There he was. Right ahead of him, attempting to build a fire. Boba almost grinned. It was almost amusing catching one's enemy with their proverbial pants down. Boba drew his blaster before stepping out into the small clearing.

"Masdon. So nice to see you."

The man in question jumped three feet in the air when he heard the hunter's voice.

"O-oh. It's y-you. I know, I know, I'm putting my hands up. And no, I don't have any weapons."

Boba walked over to Masdon, alert for any tricks the young man might try to pull, before carefully frisking him. Satisfied, Boba stood and looked Masdon in the face, who had an almost relieved look to him. Boba wasn't sure he liked that.

"Walk in front of me. Move."

Boba guided Masdon through the thick undergrowth, careful to keep a strong grip on him. As they neared the small clearing where Boba's swoop was, Masdon suddenly stopped.

"I said mo-"

Boba stopped mid word—there in the clearing was his swoop, alright. Sharp teeth marks indented the machine in tens of different places, some of which had obviously punctured the fuel tank, since there was a small puddle of liquid beneath it, and the fact that the smell of gasoline invaded the air. Other parts of the swoop had been torn completely off the bike—Boba could see the steering handles about ten feet from the speeder-bike. Whatever had done this had been big, too—_real_ big. A mélange of animal prints criss-crossed the area, some of them bigger than Boba's two hands put together.

"O—kay, well I guess that means we're staying here, huh, Fett?"

Boba didn't respond. He was trying to think of what to do. Fixing the swoop was obviously out of the question, and walking through a monster-infested jungle at night didn't sound very smart. So the only logical alternative that he could think of was staking out here—and that didn't sound too smart either.

* * *

It slunk, its body undulating with every step. Everything about the animal was graceful and slender. But its lithe build belied its strength. Silver-gray scales covered every inch of its body, making it gleam when light shone on it. That was why it hunted on dark, moonless nights such as these. Suddenly, it stopped, nostrils flaring for a scent. It exhaled slowly; smoke exiting from its nose and wafting away in the cold, night air. Its dainty ears perked when it also heard its quarry's movements. It bared its teeth, seeming to smile at the prospect of a meal, flicking its slender tail in seemingly primeval anticipation. The little rodent it was stalking continued to browse in the thick under-foliage, unaware of its danger. Yellow eyes tracked its movements, as if trying to read its mind. The predator tensed, getting ready to strike.

* * *

Fidel was shivering. Partly from cold, and partly from fear. Fidel never realized how loud it could be in a jungle at night. There was a riot of noises, some from birds and insects, and some, well, he didn't really want to go _there._

"Hey Fett, what's the time?"

Both knew what he was actually meaning._ When is it going to be light?_ Fett didn't answer. Closing his eyes, Fidel tried to sleep. After all, Fett wouldn't_ dare_ lose his bounty… Fidel suddenly jerked upright, feeling a cold sweat form on his forehead. Fett glanced at him, raising his blaster simultaneously.

"Don't even think about it, Masdon."

Fidel wasn't listening to him. He had_ felt_ something. He swallowed hard as he felt anxiety well up in his chest, and fought to keep calm. What was wrong with him? He'd been in worse places than a jungle. But it felt as if someone was watching them. Orsome_thing_. Fidel turned to Fett, unable to shake the chilling feeling.

"Uh Fett, I think something's out there."

Fidel watched as Fett slowly lifted his head and looked at him. Despite his fear, Fidel felt his face grow red. It was the jungle. Of _course_ there was 'something' out there.

"Really?"

"That's not what I mean, Fett. It feels like something's, well, watching us?" Fidel finished, his sentence sounding weak even to him. He closed his eyes again. If Fett wasn't worried about it, then neither was he. _Snap._ Fidel's eyes shot open. A dark shape emerged in front of him. Recoiling in fear, Fidel was about to jump up and take off like a scared vrelt, when he heard Fett rasp, "Stay on the ground, unless I tell you otherwise."

_Does he not _see_ the stang thing! _Fidel threw himself back down, trying to press himself as deep into the ground as he could. Fett was facing in the direction where the sound had come from, blaster ready and every muscle alert for danger. But it was not enough.

* * *

It circled around the clearing. For the first time in its life, puzzled. It had never seen creatures such as these, before. Experimentally, it snapped a branch. One of the creatures leapt up while the other just flinched. Its ears perked when it heard one of the creatures' voices. Slinking downwind of them, it inhaled deeply, saliva dripping from the corners of its mouth. _Meat._ The predator gave an almost imperceptible sound of ecstasy. The rodent it had eaten before hadn't done much to curb its appetite. Slinking silently to the edge of the clearing, it focused on one of the creatures' minds', trying to tell it that it wanted to turn around—that something might be behind them. The creature standing shook its head slightly, but didn't move. The predator did a stronger, more urgent 'suggestion'. The creature slowly turned around so that its back was to the Predator, who crouched, looking for the perfect moment to strike….. It sprang.

* * *

Fidel didn't have time to call out a warning. With incredible speed, a silver blur shot out of the forest, cannoning into Fett. Fett never had a chance in keeping his feet. Caught completely by surprise, he was knocked to ground and held there by a large reptilian-looking animal. Fidel was frozen to the spot by utter shock. His first impression of the creature was that it was a snake with legs. But now that he could see it, more or less, he could see that it was in fact was quite different. It had a long thin tail, almost whip-like, that was thrashing around, trying to itself wrap around Fett's legs. Its four legs were slender, each one's 'paw' having a set of razor-sharp, retractable claws. At first glance, its torso seemed too long, thus impairing the creature. But instead of being a handicap, it helped the predator, enabling it to twist and maneuver itself into seemingly impossible positions. Its blue head was long and slender, and could be called dainty, if it were not home to a set of cold, merciless eyes. Its head was attached to a long, slender neck, which at that moment was swinging around in an almost hypnotic fashion. Fidel watched in fascination, as the reptilian creature tried to bite into Fett. Fidel heard the creature's sharp teeth clang against Fett's chest armor. _That_ snapped him out of it. Leaping to his feet, Fidel looked around frantically for something, _anything,_ to use as a weapon. Startled by the sudden movement, the creature's elegant ears immediately swiveled around to face him, its head following shortly after. _Oh boy,_ now _I've done it_. Fidel had a split second to think before the creature attacked him. Fortunately, Fett was one step ahead of him. Bringing up his blaster, Fett aimed at the creature's chest and filled the night with round after round of blaster fire.

* * *

Hmmmm... I'll try to update with a BIG chapter before Christmas!


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: Go back to the first chapter. :)

Chapter something or other

Boba's helmet immediately compensated for the sudden bright light that assaulted it. It blacked out for a few moments before providing Boba with the best picture it could conjure up. Boba saw the dragon-looking creature stagger back a few steps, its chest blackened. Pain blossomed in his stomach with each breath he took. _Typical. I probably just re-cracked my ribs… _Struggling to regain his breath, Boba was vaguely aware of someone (_Masdon,_ Boba thought with an amused grin) shrieking wildly. Boba slowly began to sit up, knowing that Masdon would take any chance he could to escape from him. Grasping his blaster, Boba slowly came to his feet and glanced around warily. The dragon-thing was nowhere to be seen. It had most likely crawled into the jungle to die. An involuntary shudder ran up his spine. He never wanted to do _that_ again.

* * *

Fidel felt like someone was squeezing his chest. He had never known fear like this before. It clouded his thoughts, restricted his breathing, and made him just plain uncomfortable. The tension had been relieved somewhat when he saw that Fett was more or less in one piece. But knowing that a mere creature could take _Boba_ _Fett_ by surprise made Fidel feel just a little distressed.

Sighing, he put his hands on his head, since that was probably what Fett would tell him to do when he came over.

"I see that you are getting smarter, Masdon. Get up. We're getting out of here."

"How?"

Fett turned slowly around to face him.

"We walk. Unless you have a swoop hidden in that vest of yours, which is… Highly unlikely."

Fidel looked at Fett in annoyance.

* * *

"You know, Fett, walking in the jungle at night is really over-rated. I mean, you see all these advertisements saying 'go on a night safari with us' and that sort of stuff, but _now_ that I'm actually _in_ the jungle at night, I don't think…" Boba ground his teeth in annoyance. Masdon had been going on like this for the past _forty_-_five_ minutes. And it was starting to grate on his already-grated nerves. Boba glanced at his chrono and sighed. The night wasn't even half-way over yet. _It's going to be a long one too…_ Boba suddenly stopped and put his hands to his head, which had unexpectedly started to, er, _fuzz._ It was the oddest sensation he had ever experienced. It was as if someone was, for lack of a better term, messing with his head. He felt foggy, like _he _wanted to do _this_, but_ someone else_ wanted him to do _that_, and they were forcing their will upon him. He had felt this same sensation right before the dra—

* * *

The dragon slunk quietly around the outskirts of the clearing, its tongue flicking in and out as it tested the air, even more perplexed than before. When it had tried to eat one of the creatures, it had been protected by something. The dragon snorted silently in frustration. The creatures had meat on them. It could smell it. The dragon stopped suddenly as it remembered something. There were two creatures. Maybe the _other_ creature didn't have scales on it. Where was it… _There_. The dragon crouched, its blackened chest-scales brushing the ground. Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. Smoke exited the dragon's nostrils as it waited patiently for the right moment…

* * *

Fidel felt the air go out of him in a loud _whoosh_ when something big and heavy crashed into him. Paralyzed with surprise (you gotta give him a break. After all, his face _was_ shoved into the jungle floor, which is filled with… Er, dirt among other things.), Fidel just laid there for a second before his survival instincts kicked in. Rolling over, Fidel got an up-close-and-personal look at the creature, which was leaning over him, teeth bared. Bringing his feet up to his chest, Fidel kicked out, trying to dislodge himself from under the dragon. But the dragon seemed to anticipate his movements. With eye-blurring speed, it wrapped its tail around him and began to move in for the kill. At this moment, Fidel knew that it was a hopeless fight—he knew that he couldn't beat the monster. "FETT! GET OVER HERE!"

* * *

Boba lay on the ground, stunned: it felt like his brain had been turned to jelly, he hit the ground so hard. But, knowing that the creature now had his merchandise, he jumped to his feet, trying to get a visual on it. _I thought I killed the stang thing… _Ah, there they were. Masdon flailing uselessly under the dragon's immense weight, and the dragon about to take a chunk out of Masdon. _I've got to get its attention. _Suddenly, an idea popped into his head, and not giving it a moment's thought Boba leaped into action. Igniting his jet-pack while simultaneously getting out his vibro-knife, he slammed into the dragon's head making a long, jagged cut along the creature's face. _That_ got its attention. Screaming in pain, the dragon turned around to face him, its cruel yellow eyes meeting Boba's. Boba swallowed hard. Those eyes weren't the eyes of a mere creature: they were the eyes of a semi-_intelligent_ creature, which was now bent on revenge. Boba felt his eyes starting to cloud over, and it was only through sheer will that he was able to keep conscious. Evidently sensing (or knowing) that its tactic didn't work, the dragon then drew in a deep breath.

"Oh, shizzle," Boba spat out, right before he dove to the ground.

* * *

Fidel's mouth fell open in shock as fire spewed from the dragon's mouth, saturating the area where Fett had been standing. _Oh, not-good-not-good-not-good-not-good. _There went his last hope of survival. And his father always said that he'd turn in to _rancor_ meat. Hah! At least he'd die proving him wrong… Easing up on his side, Fidel slowly stood up. However, he wasn't not going to at least _try _to escape this doom-machine. _On one. Three, two, o..._ Fidel's mental count-down was interrupted by another spurt of flame—but _this_ one came from the ground, _opposite_ of the dragon. Fidel's mouth dropped down in shock for the second time that night. _How in the stang…? No one could have survived that… _His thoughts were interrupted when the dragon started howling, a high-pitched ululating keen that went up into the highest octaves imaginable and then went down into lowest. Fett, taking advantage of the dragon's inattentiveness, threw a small thermal detonator at it. This tiny little detail finally registered in Fidel's head as Fett got up and started charging over to him: Thermal. Detonator. Oooohh. Turning tail, Fidel sprinted towards the edge of the clearing for shelter. With a loud _BOOM_ the detonator exploded, the shock-wave knocking him to the ground. Gasping for breath, Fidel shakily put his hands to his ringing ears, his whole head pounding as if it were a drum being played by an angry Weequay. Gradually he became aware of something grabbing him by the arms and dragging him. _I hope it's not the stang dragon…._

* * *

Boba dragged Masdon through the thick jungle underbrush, trying to do it quickly as well as quietly. Breathing was an agony now, each breath accentuated by a sharp stab of pain. He knew that he couldn't go on much farther, his taxed body was now traveling well over the limits of any ordinary man. What he really needed to find was shelter, a cave of some sort, or maybe a burrow. Dark clouds covered the night sky, throwing forth an occasional flash of lightning, or rumble of thunder. In the condition that he and Masdon were in now, he couldn't afford for either of them to get caught out in a downpour, and risk getting chilled.

In the shock-wave that had followed the explosion, Boba had been thrown forward, but his helmet had muted any damaging effect it might have had on his ears. Masdon on the other hand… Boba winced, not wanting to think about someone _else's_ pain at the moment—he had enough of his own to deal with. Overhead, thunder crashed again, this time letting loose sprinkle of rain with it. Lightning began flickering every few seconds as the rain came down harder. _Just… Great… _Boba groaned as water started running down his back. Setting Masdon on the ground, Boba turned around and tried to see through the deluge. Lightning flashed again, outlining a dark, yawning hole. Gripping Masdon again, Boba started dragging him towards the cave, hoping that it was unoccupied. Glancing inside he saw nothing that seemed out of the ordinary—such as discarded bones or such. Sighing in relief, he drug Masdon into the cave and sank down to the floor, briefly closing his eyes. _Come on Fett, pull yourself together, your better than this._ He knew that he needed to keep watch.But he _really_ didn't want to. Boba reached into one of his pouches and removed his med pac, and a thermal blanket. Tossing the blanket over Masdon, he then opened the med pac and got out some stims—he couldn't take any chances of falling asleep.

* * *

"Masdon, sit down."

Boba bit back an annoyed snarl. He was certainly not in the mood for this kind of behavior.

"Masdon, sit DOWN. Or, so help me, I'll stun you."

Masdon didn't listen. Instead he slowly looked around as if trying to find something. Growling dangerously, Boba stood up and grabbed Masdon by the back of the shirt and yanked him down. Masdon, obviously surprised, made an inarticulate sound of surprise. It was almost as if he hadn't heard him… _Fett, you _di'kut_ of _course _he can't hear you. Of all the fraggin' idiots… _Grabbing Masdon roughly by the shoulders, Boba looked at him.

"Can you hear me."

Masdon stared at him blankly. Boba pointed to his ear and shook his head. Masdon, looking slightly confused, nodded, then shook, then nodded his head again. The detonator had obviously addled his head, besides damaging his hearing. Getting out his med pac again, Boba injected bacta into Masdon's ears, and tried to ignore the profuse swearing.

* * *

A storm raged outside, flashes of lightning briefly illuminating the inside of the cave. Sitting near the cave's mouth, Boba stood guard, trying to stay awake. Even though he'd taken a stim, his body was still feeling the after-effects of being shot, and was loudly telling him of that fact. Being cold didn't help matters either—he was officially soaked to the bone. _When I get out of this mess I'm putting a temperature regulator in my armor, _he thought humorlessly. Rain pattered loudly outside, making a soothing, hypnotic sound. Boba felt his eyes grow heavy, but tried to fight it. He needed to stay awake. Masdon might try to escape (he highly doubted _that_—he had effectively hog-tied Fidel with some spare rope.), or some of Randia's _other_ nightlife might come and inspect them. Boba tightened his grip on his blaster. If they did, he would be ready.

The storm howled on, as did the night. Boba glanced at his chrono sleepily. He'd almost dozed off twice now. Stifling a yawn, he tried to see past the torrential rain that seemed to curtain the cave's entrance, to no avail. The stim had long since worn off, leaving Boba even more drained than before. In an effort to stay awake, Boba got painfully to his feet and peered out of the cave. Rain splattered on his helmet, sounding like miniature blaster bolts. Boba was about to pull his head back in, when a flash of lightning lit up the area outside of the cave. Boba jerked back, a cold sweat starting to form on his forehead. _I didn't just see that,_ he thought frantically. Getting his blaster clear of its holster, he brought it around and pointed the muzzle towards the cave mouth. Cautiously moving forward, he eased out into the deluge of rain, keeping his blaster in front of him. The rain came down harder, limiting visibility to only a few yards. Boba stood tensely, eyes searching vainly for the shape he'd thought he'd seen. _It was just a trick of the eyes,_ Boba finally concluded, albeit uneasily. Just as he was about to turn around, a fork of lightning split the sky again, seeming to make night into day. And standing no more than ten feet away was the dragon.

Boba couldn't control the shaking in his limbs. He wasn't sure if it was from the after-effects of the stim, from the cold, or both. _Or from fear._ Boba began to walk backwards, his eyes never leaving the place where the dragon was. He couldn't believe this was happening. _It was dead, I killed it. No one could have survived such a blast._ Reaching the relative safety of the cave, Boba stumbled over to Masdon. "What's up?"

"Shut up and listen. The dragon's outside, and I—" Boba severed the ropes quickly with his vibroblade, "am going to let you loose." Masdon looked up at Boba while rubbing his wrists. "And why would you do a stang thing like that?" He asked in a whisper. Boba met his gaze and rasped, "Because you are no good to me dead."

Boba hauled Masdon up roughly by the arm, and dragged him deeper into the cave. _There's got to be another way out of here. _Adrenaline surged through his system, giving him strength equal to that of any stim. Behind him he heard the labored panting of Masdon. _Thank the stars,_ Boba thought as he came to a fork in the cave. "Which one do we take?" It was a good question. Both of the tunnels looked the same, neither of them having any distinguishing features that could help them in deciding. Masdon's panting was joined by something else—a crunching sound, like feet walking on gravel. _Like clawed feet._ Picking randomly, Boba shot up the left tunnel, Masdon right on his heels. There was a sudden roar behind them, followed by a sound resembling that of a galloping rancor. _Oh SSith…_ Calling on a reserve that even he didn't know was there, Boba began sprinting faster, hoping that the tunnel didn't lead them to a dead end. It didn't. Boba was several feet in front of Fidel when it happened: rounding a sharp corner, a yawning chasm seemed to appear in front of him. Boba felt dread build up in him even before he started to slide to a stop. _There's no way out—_Boba staggered forward a step as Fidel rounded the corner and slammed into him, screaming, "Sons of the Sith!" in surprise. "What the… Oh." Masdon left the last part of his sentence unsaid when he saw the chasm.

The walls of the cave glowed an eerie green, courtesy of Randian cave moss. There was another bone-chilling roar behind them, much closer this time. Determined to at least die fighting, Boba turned around and faced the dark tunnel, back to the chasm. He hadn't the slightest idea on how to kill it—although his vibro-blade _did_ cut through the scales, Boba was sure that he'd never get close enough to deal a killing blow. "Hey Fett, what should I do?" Boba turned his head slightly and looked at him. "Find somewhere to hide and shut up." A sudden idea sprang into Boba's head. Grabbing Masdon roughly, he ran to the other side of the cave wall. Now, they were on the outside of the cave's turn instead of the inside. "Masdon, here's what you're going to do: when the dragon comes around the corner, I want you to run over there and shove it with all your might, got that?" Masdon stared at him as if he were crazy. "So you want me to push it into the pit, me following after it I might add, while you escape, huh?" Up the tunnel, Boba could hear the sound of claws against stone. "I never leave a bounty behind," he hissed before turning his attention to the tunnel.

* * *

The dragon galloped up the tunnel, its elongated body fluctuating with every stride. Its yellow eyes glowed demonically, as if it were possesed. _They_ were here. And not only that—they had come into its home. The dragon bared its teeth in anger before it let loose a resounding roar. This time, they would not escape. This time, they would deal with the full wrath of the dragon's _Hylemas._

* * *

Boba stood still, adrenaline pumping. He could hear the dragon coming. In a few seconds it would be on them… _Now._ Boba tensed as the dragon sped up the tunnel, its breath coming in short bursts. But there was also another sound. Boba felt as if a knife had been shoved in his gut. _There are more of them._ Sure enough, Boba could hear the distinct _click-click _of multiple dragon claws. At that moment the lead dragon sped around the corner. "_Go,"_ Boba hissed to Masdon, before readying his jet-pack for another burn.

* * *

Fidel leaped forward, running as hard as he could toward the dangerous predator. Then he heard it—the sound of claws grating against stone. The sound of the dragon trying to slide to a stop. Letting out an animal-like snarl, Fidel slammed into the dragon's flank, feeling it give ever so slightly. _This isn't going to work, _he thought desperatelyl—right as Fett cannoned into the dragon's abdomen, jet-pack ignited. The next few moments passed in a blur. First there was the feeling of being dragged (he hadn't released his hold on the dragon), then the sensation of falling… and falling… and falling…

* * *

The first thing he became aware of was a terrible, burning ache in his chest. Then the coughs. Harsh spasms wracked his lungs as he choked up mouthful after mouthful of foul-tasting water. Wheezing uncontrollably, Boba was suddenly very aware of every rib in abdomen. His vision began to swim from the lack of oxygen. _Just relax… Relax your body and you will be able to breathe easier._ Gradually, Boba's breathing began to even out, and his vision cleared. Opening his eyes he took notice of his surroundings: He was in a large cavern, apparently lit by natural, unseen skylights high above his head. Grimacing slightly Boba started to sit up, but was immediately stopped by a hot throb in his abdomen. _Do not attempt to move around, Young One, for you are not fully healed to be up and about._ Fighting back the nausea in his stomach, Boba slowly laid back down and tried to remember what had happened:

_The dragon gave a scream before sliding off the edge of the precipice. Boba felt a thrill of victory a second before something wrapped itself around his legs, knocking him off his feet and dragging him into the bottomless darkness. The dragon thrashed and continued its unearthly scream while falling. The dragon's tail still wrapped around his legs, Boba tried to claw and kick his way out of its grasp. A sudden draft of air flipped the dragon around so that it was facing Boba. Hissing out a growl, it strained upwards, partially succeeding in reaching its prey. Boba spat out a quick curse before reaching for his vibro-blade, only to find that _it wasn't there._ Boba felt fire course through his abdomen as the dragon's teeth bit into his armor with a dull clang. Painfully, he reached for his blaster and aimed it at the dragon's head and squeezed the trigger. The dragon gave a yelp of surprise, releasing Boba from its jaws. But it recovered quickly. Its long, serpentine body tensed with effort as it threw its head towards Boba again._

_They fell, for what seemed like an eternity, before hitting the cold, black body of water with so much force that it felt like he landed on dura-crete. The battle continued underwater. Boba's strength slowly being leeched out, due to the frigid water, and the impact on it. Boba could tell that the dragon was also weakening, but at a slower rate than he. Boba fought as ferociously as he could, determining that if he was going to die the dragon would too. _

_The water was an advantage as well as a weakness. The dragon, a land reptile, did not have the edge that it did on land, whereas Boba was as lethal in the water as out of it. But Boba also knew that if he went under, he wouldn't be coming back up. _

_Slowly, Boba felt a growing clumsiness in his actions, and a fuzziness manifesting itself in his head. His reactions were no longer instantaneous, his mind beginning to not comprehend what was happening. A moment later, icy, black water closed over his head. _

Boba put a hand to his head, trying desperately to recall what had happened after that. By all rights he should have drowned. Grimacing at the steady throbbing in his abdomen, Boba again sat up, this time succeeding in tamping down his nausea. He glanced around again, this time spying a dark shape a few meters from him. Peering at it curiously, Boba painfully began crawling towards it. He stopped a few feet from the object, panting heavily, head towards the ground. Black spots began dancing in front of his eyes. _Oh no, Fett, you're not going to lose conciousness _this _time…_ Grunting with effort Boba lifted his eyes and got a good look at the shape. He felt his eyes widen in horror as a flashback hit him.

_Boba broke to the surface, panting and choking. Masdon was nowhere to be seen. Not that that was surprising, seeing as Boba's Mandalorian helmet had lost its night-vision capability when he had hit the water. Boba struggled tiredly to keep his head above the water. The dragon's continuous, high-pitched squeal was suddenly interrupted by a lower, more robust roar. Boba felt his already-cold blood freeze. Another one. _There was another one.

Boba jerked back to reality, his breathing uneven and ragged. "Fett? You there?" Boba made an effort to answer but found that he couldn't. All he could manage was a low moan. _Patience, human._ Not for the first time that night, Boba felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle: That thought had not been his own. He needed to get Masdon and get out of here, A.S.A.P. "M-Masdon? We are l-leaving now." Something wet and sticky spilled out of his mouth, and Boba slowly drew his hand across his face, vaguely realizing that it was blood. Masdon's head came into view. He smiled weakly. "Well, Fett, I don't think your going anywhere, right now…" Boba squinted his eyes as Masdon's face began to waver. Sleep sounded so good right now. _Human, you must not sleep. You must fight it if you are to survive._ How many times had he heard that on this hunt? He'd lost count.Oh, well. He'd wake up in time.

* * *

_Young Hunter, you must awaken. Open your eyes. You must not fall asleep again. Young Hunter, you _must _awaken. Young Hunter…_ Boba gradually became aware of his surroundings. _I wonder how long I was out, _he wondered groggily. Slowly, he opened his eyes. Hovering over him was—_No, it couldn't be._ Boba felt the icy grip of fear as he stared at the creature above him. He suddenly couldn't breathe. _Young Hunter, there is no reason to fear me. I am not like my counterparts whom you met before. _Boba just stared, in a state of shock. The dragon, who, it seemed, was communicating telepathically with him, cocked its head. _You humans are the strangest creatures I have ever encountered. Your friend over there was so startled that he seemed to have a heart seizure: _The dragon's tone was one of amusement. Adrenaline was coursing through Boba's system, telling him either to flee or fight. _Hunter? Can you understand me? _Nothing the dragon was saying was registering. Breathing raggedly, Boba began backing away from the dragon. _Young Hunter, you _must not _do any physical activity, while your wounds are such as they are. Young—_

Boba mentally shut out the voice and concentrated on trying to stand. The dragon began to walk over to him, its stride suggesting annoyance. Shaking with effort, Boba got to his feet and began frantically searching for his blaster. The dragon's voice was beginning to sound stern. _Young Hunter, if you do not do as I say I will be forced to restrain you myself. _Boba wasn't listening: _Where the _stang _is my blaster… _He thought groggily. It was the last thing he remembered.

* * *

"Fett. Hey, Fett. Rise and shine! It is a gu-LORIOUS day!" Boba woke up to the sound of Masdon's overly cheerful voice. _I am going to kill him, bounty or no, _Boba thought angrily before opening his eyes and sitting up. "He lives! He breathes! He's _almost _human! Fett, I thought you to be more disciplined than this," Masdon said in an admonishing tone. Boba glared at Masdon. "More disciplined than _what?_" Masdon rolled his eyes, grinning. "You've been asleep for over thirteen hours, Fett. Shaqua and I thought that you were going to be out for at least another three." Boba shook his head lightly, trying to clear the cobwebs that unconsciousness had created. Thirteen _hours?_ He couldn't have… _Hello Young Hunter. I see that your friend has awakened you. _Boba jerked back as the telepathic dragon came into view. "Whoa, easy there, Fett. Shaqua's a friend," Masdon said, still grinning. Boba glared at him for a second. "Just who _is _Shaqua?" Masdon motioned to the dragon, who was standing motionless behind him. "This is Shaqua. She's—"

"Why are you speaking of it as if it were a sentient being? And even if it were, _why _in Vader's name would you call it a _friend_!" Boba snarled. Masdon glanced at the beast, Shaqua, a second before answering. "You mean she hasn't talked, uh, _thought_ to you?"

"Just because an animal can talk doesn't make it an intelligent being," Boba growled. "Fett, she doesn't just talk, she reasons! For crying out loud, don't tell me you haven't noticed that."

"I have not."

Masdon sighed in frustration before continuing. "Fett, have you even thought about how we survived that fall? Or how you're now on solid ground when that other dragon was about to drown you? Or how you were death warmed over and now your basically fine?" Boba didn't answer. Yes. He _had_ thought about it. And yes, he _had _considered the possibility that this beast had contributed to his and Masdon's survival. But he had dismissed the idea as soon as it had presented itself. Masdon glanced at the dragon again, who did a very convincing imitation of someone rolling their eyes. "Shaqua says that it's fruitless arguing with you. And she also says that all of her kind are not like the _Hylema _clan."

"The _what?_" Boba asked sharply. Masdon glanced at him merrily. "The dragon's have clans. Shaqua's clan was scattered when the _Hylema's _attacked them in a surprise strike."

Boba sneered at Masdon. "You're trying to convince me that these animals have the ability to plan strategically—" Shaqua glided forward, her long, sinuous body undulating in agitation. _Do not make the mistake, Young Hunter, of underestimating my kind. The _Rlaxans_—those who you refer to as 'dragons'—are more sly than even you can imagine._ _How do you suppose that Jenrod ambushed you in the first place? Through simple instinct? _Shaqua snorted. _You believe that we are mere animals? Jenrod was the youngest and stupidest of the _Hylema _clan, and yet he able to get the best of you on every occasion that you met. How much more damage could an intellectual among us do? _Boba felt the beginnings of a shudder work its way up his spine. For the first time since he had seen Shaqua, he realized and appreciated how much larger she was than Jenrod: Jenrod had been maybe ten feet long, from snout to hindquarters, not including the tail. Shaqua on the other hand was almost twice that. Just one of her scales was as big as his hand. "Don't you think that you owe Shaqua an apology? And maybe some thanks?" Masdon asked. Boba stood up slowly. Shaqua looked at him with an unreadable expression as he inclined his head towards her. Masdon smirked. "Shaqua, coming from anyone else, that would be considered a slight. But getting a head nod from _Boba Fett?_ _That _is an honor."

* * *

Alright, I'm sorry to torture you, but that's ALL I've been working on for weeks and weeks. I don't write that slow, its just that 1) I had writer's block 2) SCHOOL yes, excuses, excuses... MERRY CHRISTmas! 


	13. Chapter 13

**Hey hey, the end has finally come! I have no excuse for not updating this before now. Your forgiveness would be mightily appreciated!**

** Oh yes! To avoid further annoyance, I shall completely type out my future stories before I begin to post it. Thank you for the wonderful reviews!**

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to Lucasfilm, blady-bla.

* * *

The sound of alarm klaxons was Boba's wake up call. Cursing softly, he ran a diagnostic and saw that the _Slave's_ hyperdrive had blown due to a space mine. 

Pirates often set mines along frequently traveled hyperspace lanes in order to loot and commandeer the hapless vessels. Unfortunately for the pirates, the _Slave _was not some

helpless luxury cruiser. As the _Slave _reverted to real space, Boba began charging up lasers and shields. The _Slave _gave groaning shudder and dropped out of hyperspace. Boba

almost blanched as he looked at the site set before him—outside the transparisteel viewscreen was an armada of five pirate vessels. Sweat beaded on his forehead as the enemy captain hailed him.

"Slave I_ this is Captain Jer'def of the pirate band _Howlrunner. _Surrender your ship and power down your weapons or face our wrath."_

The _Slave _didn't stand a chance against nine warships and Boba knew it. He swallowed hard and briefly thought of how bad his luck had been on this hunt.

"Slave I_, do you comply?" _

Boba shut his eyes befor answering, hating himself even as he pressed the switch to reply. "This is _Slave I._ I comply."

A gravelly chuckle answered him. "_Slave I. That name sounds mighty familiar to me. I am… very _eager _to make your acquaintance, Captain. Follow your 'escorts' to my flagship, _Efficacious,_ and go to landing bay 4. And Captain, don't try to pull anything, or I will personally blow your ship out of the sky."_

_

* * *

_

Boba remained silent as he slowly walked down the ramp into the landing bay. Despite the situation, he was slightly amused to see the amount of weaponty being aimed at him. He even spied an E-web cannon.

At the bottom of the landing ramp stood a huge, brown skinned man with a shocking mane of unruly, blonde hair. Boba judged him to be in his late twenties—very young for the leader of such a large pirate band. _Very ambitious. And most likely very dangerous._

"I am Captain Jer'def. And you must be the infamous Boba Fett." Jer'def smiled sinisterly at him. "I have wanted to meet you for so _very_ long a time."

Boba said nothing.

"Don't you even want to know how I found you?" Jer'def's voice took on a hard edge. "Or _why_ I wanted to meet you?"

Boba cocked his head slightly. "The thought crossed my mind."

Jer'def's eyes glinted in the harsh light of the landing bay. "Tracking you was easy. You have gotten very sloppy, Fett. Perhaps you should reconsider which informants you contact. But you won't be leaving the _Efficacious,_ will you? Not alive, anyway." Jer'def smirked as his entourage snickered appreciatively. "Do you know why you're here, Fett?" Jer'def asked as he began to slowly circle Boba. "You're here because you _murdered_ my brother."

Ah. This was definitely not a good thing, Boba decided as he tried to remember who Jer'def was reffering to.

"You shot him, an unarmed prisoner _at your mercy_, at point black range with no provocation. You probably don't even remember him because he wasn't the bounty—you just killed him because he was an unfortunate snag in your hunt. He died in my arms. And I promised to avenge his death. _You _are the object of my displeasure, Fett. And that is _very _unfortunate for you."

Boba narrowed his eyes at Jer'def when he remembered the hunt.

* * *

The hunt had been long and grueling, and the bounty had been a sly one. Boba had tracked him to his hideout, which had been situated in the seedy town of Mos Eisley. The capture had been sickeningly easy. As Boba began making his way back to the _Slave_ with the prisoner in tow he had happened upon two men mercilessly beating an elderly man and his wife. Although not being a compassionate man, something made Boba help those two people. As the thugs ran off, one drew a blaster and without provocation shot the old woman right in the chest. She died without a sound, silently dropping to the ground to the frantic cries of her husband. Rage had welled up in Boba's chest: he knew what loss felt like. He understood what this man was going through, and he wasn't going to let another murderer go without justice. Without conscious thought Boba had stunned his prisoner and given chase to the young man, who unknowingly had sealed his fate with a single shot.  
The young man had surrendered to Boba, babbling non-stop and begging to be left alive. Boba remembered what he had said. He had looked into the man's eyes and seen cowardice. 

_"May your soul rest in _dar'yaim, aruetii."

The smell of ozone from the blaster discharge was acrid as the body fell to the ground. Boba hadn't known at the time that the shot hadn't killed him.

Boba was snapped from his reverie by Jer'def.

"You do remember, don't you?' Jer'def whispered.

Boba stared ahead stonily.

"You will pay dearly for your callousness, Fett," Jer'def said quietly before walking towards to the hangar's exit. "Search his ship, and throw him in a cell! And relieve him of any and all potential weapons."

Jer'def's right hand man saluted him and began yelling out orders as Boba felt four strong arms drag him out of the hangar and to his cell.

* * *

Jace Holln walked up the _Slave I's_ ramp carefully, inspecting each step warily in case of any booby traps. He and his partner, Chon ly Hin, had been picked for the _exciting _duty of inspecting the bounty hunter's ship. But Jace had his doubts about what information he could glean from the computer: even though he was an excellent hacker, he knew that he probably wouldn't be able to get past the safeguards on Fett's computer.  
Sighing in anticipation of the tedious work ahead of him, Jace walked into the hold of Fett's ship, his eyes automatically roving to the sterile cages in front of him. To his shock one was occupied. "Uh, hey Chon. Ya might want to contact the Cap'n about this…" 

"What…? Oh," Chon said, immediately getting out his comm-link. "Cap'n? This is lieutenant Chon ly Hin. Lieutenant Holln and I found something that might be of interest to you…"

* * *

Captain Jer'def Deenea surveyed the scruffy, young man standing before him with a careful eye before speaking. "I am Captain Jer'def of the pirate band _Howlrunner."_

Fett's prisoner grinned slightly and inclined his head in greeting. "Uh, I'm Fidel."

_So young and full of life… Just like my brother._

Jer'def drew in a shaky breath as the resemblance hit him full force. He knew what he would do.

"Well Fidel, I see no reason why you should remain a prisoner," Jer'def said softly, unable to break the image of his younger sibling. "You will be a guest on the _Efficacious_ for as long as it suits you. Feel free to walk around."

The young man—Fidel—looked slightly shocked at Jer'def's gift. "Thanks."

Jer'def nodded his head sadly, lost in memories of a lifetime ago. As he turned around and headed toward the bridge, he didn't catch the devious smirk cast to him by Fidel Masdon.

* * *

_I got the run of this place. All I gotta do is find the detention bay…_

Fidel walked deliberately throughout the bowels of the _Efficacious_, hoping fervently that he _looked_ like he knew what he was doing. He consciously squared his shoulders attempting to make his bearing more self-assured.

_Cursed ship's too big_, Fidel thought disgruntedly as he took yet another corridor.

"Hey, you! Halt!"

Fidel felt the blood freeze in his veins for a nanosecond before he regained his calm.

"You talking to me?" He asked, pointing to chest.

The man, apparently a guard, nodded his head. "Do have clearance to be on this level?"

Fidel felt his stomach sink to his feet. _Think positive. Be the _man. Straightening up to his full—and slightly short—height, Fidel gave the guard a superior smile before saying, "Ah, Captain Jer'def and I are buddies, and he's allowed me free reign of his ship."

The guard looked unconvinced, so Fidel quickly added, "and he would _not _appreciate it if his lackeys were to arrest his _favored _guest." The guard straightened slightly, a small smirk on his face. "And why, may I ask, are you on your way to the detention block?"

Fidel mirrored the guard's smirk. "_Because_," he stated patronizingly, "I wish to gloat, vaunt, and otherwise exult in my former captor's face that it is now _he _that is the captive, not I." The explanation appeared to pacify the guard, who simply waved Fidel on his way. _Well that was… Easy…_

_

* * *

_

Boba stared at the ceiling, attempting rather unsuccessfully to burn a hole through it with glares alone.

"Hey bounty hunter, how does it feel to be the bounty for once?"

Boba didn't answer, ignoring the wheezes of laughter from his two rather immature guards.

"Hey bounty hunter, how did you _ever _get that dirt-crate that you call a ship into the air?"

More snorts of laughter. Boba sighed inwardly. Jer'def's two goons had been going on like this for the past hour. And it was starting to annoy.

"Hey hunter—"

"Hey guard. Do you want me to show you how to execute an _extremely _effective and painful punch to the sternum?" Boba finally growled.

The two guards, obviously not expecting Fett to talk, just stared at him. Then one of them, a short guy with blonde hair, grinned idiotically and nodded his head.

"I sure do, hunter, so why don't you show me?"

Boba looked at him evenly and retorted, "Well why don't you come on over and I _will_."

The blonde guard looked at Fett with a haughty expression before punching in the code to de-activate the force-field.

"Jec, what're you _doing?"_ The blonde's partner hissed.

Jec smiled and looked back at his friend. "I'm going to teach this hunter _lesson._"

"Oh sure, Jec, you do that and then get your head ripped off by the Cap'n!"

Jec faced his companion, self-assured smile still in place. "The Cap'n won't do anything of the sort, Sifuun—not if he thinks the prisoner was _escaping."_ Jec turned back to the codes.

"Jec, you're no match for a _bounty hunter_! He'll beat you like an egg! And then whip you some…"

"Why don't you just shut up, Sif? I know what I'm doin'," Jec stated stoutly although he had stopped punching in the code. Boba saw his rather unlikely chance at escaping begin to slip through his fingers.

"What is the matter, Jec? Are you frightened of a tussle with a simple hunter like myself? If it would make you feel better, I'll even let you tie my hands behind my back." Boba said provocatively.

"Just what are you insinuating, _bounty hunter?_" Jec spat.

Boba just looked at him. With a slight growl, Jec punched in the few remaining code numbers. "Jec, what the _kriff_ are you _doing_?" Jec faced his friend as the control pad chirped confirmation of the correct code. "He insulted me, and where I come from that is enough of an offense to warrant _death_." The force field frosted and then deactivated. Within thirty seconds both Jec and Siffun were unconscious.

* * *

_Oh great. Another passageway,_ Fidel thought with a scowl on his face as he stalked up the corridor. _Why don't they put something _useful_ on these walls? Like maybe a lay out of the ship…? _Fidel thought, not for the first time. As he rounded a corner, he only heard a whisper of a warning before something laid him flat on the floor.  
The air went out of him with a spectacular _whoosh_ and he found himself staring at a familiar T-shaped helmet. 

"You know something Fett?" Fidel wheezed, "you really shouldn't greet people like that—it's impolite."

Fett, as expected, ignored Fidel's statement. "Get up."

"Where we goin' Fett?" Fett began to walk. "Come _on_, you at least owe me an explanation."

Whether Fett merely decided to humor him, or whether he really _did _think that he owed him an explanation, Fidel would never know. But when Fett did answer, Fidel was struck speechless:

"I'm going to blow up this ship."

* * *

Boba froze behind a pile of crates as two security officers walked by. He remained still for a minute to ensure that they had passed a sufficient distance before quietly easing to a standing position. By that time, Masdon was beginning to squirm. Ignoring the young man for the _nth_ time, Boba slid from behind the crates and quickly but casually walked to the blast door on down the hall. _And what is in the room behind the blast door? _Boba thought to himself with an evil grin. Explosives.

* * *

Several tense hours passed by as Fidel and Boba placed explosives strategically across the ship. There had been several close calls in the two almost getting captured, but Fidel had been able to weasel his way out of the guard's suspicious questions while Boba snuck up behind them and knocked them out. Now, he and Fett were in a small alcove overlooking the hangar bay in which the _Slave I _was impounded. Fidel heard Fett curse when it became apparent that the _Slave _was being heavily guarded. 

Providentially, during their excursion of finding the explosives(Fidel had bemoaned the fact that they had no naquadah, saying that if they_ had_ had it, it would have increased the blast radius by ten times. Fett had then looked at him disbelievingly and said that naquadah was from a science-fiction, holo-vid show, and didn't he know why it was called "science-fiction?") Fett had managed to find his arsenal of weapons in the armory.

Drawing a thermal detonator from one of his many pockets, Fett stood up quickly and lobbed it across the hangar bay. There was a sudden, loud explosion followed by a violent shuddering as the blast's shockwave hit the surrounding walls. That would cause a sufficient distraction.

* * *

"_Enter proper identification code." _

The _Slave_ had never sounded so beautiful. Boba punched in his code(s) and hurriedly began warming up the _Slave's _engines. There was suddenly a loud, almost sub-sonic _boom_ followed by a series of smaller explosions as Boba's detonator began a chain reaction throughout the Super Star Destroyer. There was a series of _pings _as debris from the hangar began peppering the _Slave_ mercilessly.

"Fett…." Boba heard Masdon say warningly, knowing that the unspoken meaning was _"We need to get moving _now."

_Done. _With the engines screaming in protest Boba shoved the throttle to full and guided the ship skillfully out of the exploding hangar bay and into the vast expanse of space. Grinning smugly from behind his helmet, Boba hailed the _Efficacious._

"_Fett? How did you escape?"_

Boba could hear the fury in the man's voice. "That is not important."

There was a snort over the comm. "_Oh, so you're just calling to gloat over your victory in escaping? You should have killed me first, Fett. Know this: I will hunt you down and slit your throat myself." _

"I'm sure you might have tried."

"_What?" _

"I actually hailed you to give you advice. Ignorance can be unhealthy, Jer'def."

At that moment alarm klaxons began wailing over the comm. "_Fett! What did you…" _

Boba could see in his mind's eye Jer'def's realization at what was happening.

_"You blasted—" _

Static abruptly cut off Jer'def's statement. Boba glanced at his short range scanner: the blip that had been the _Efficacious_ blinked off the screen.

* * *

"Fett, that was some brilliant thinking back there!" Fidel whooped enthusiastically. Not waiting to see if he actually got an answer, he continued: "Escaping from those guards, setting up the ordnance, disabling the sensors in the hangar bay _and _disabling the escape pods… Yeesh, remind me to _never _get on your bad side, granted that I'm already on your bad side sorta 'cos I'm the bounty and all, but…" Fidel let the sentence hang in the air, fairly sure that Fett had no inclination to hear it. "Masdon. Back in the cage." 

"What? What are you saying? After all we've been through you want me to get in the _cage?_ Fierfek, you and me are, like, brothers!"

Fett raised his head very slowly and glanced at Fidel.

"Okay, maybe not brothers, but hey…"

* * *

Boba grimaced tiredly and looked at his ship's computer again. It showed roughly the same thing as it had a few minutes ago: Corellia was still four hours twenty-three minutes and eight seconds away, granted that before it had been four hours, twenty-_seven _minutes, and _five _seconds until planetfall. 

Thankfully, after his and Masdon's escape from the doomed _Efficacious,_ the ships in Jer'def's fleet had been thrown into too much confusion to be concerned about their boss's enemy escaping.

With the _Slave's _hyperdrive being busted Boba deducted that there were two possible places where he could make berth, Coruscant and Corellia. Corellia was Boba's first choice, not because it was closer, but because he just wanted this dang hunt to be over with. It would be a tight squeeze regarding fuel, but it would be worth it. The hunt was coming to an end.

* * *

Corellia was a beautiful planet, even by Boba's standards. Acres upon acres of lush meadows broken here and there by a small farm or a patch of woods. The _Slave I_ whined painfully as Boba brought her in to land, the damage of the space mine taking it toll . As the hum of the engine began a fade, he leaned his head against the back of the captain's seat. _Almost over. Just a few hours and I'll be done. _This was it. The homestretch. Boba stood up quickly and went to collect his bounty. Might as well not put it off.

* * *

"Ah, Mr. Fett. Master Carl has been expecting you," an elderly man said by way of greeting, his voice trembling slightly. Boba couldn't tell if it was from fear, or merely from old age. The old man gave Fidel an appraising look. "We haven't seen the likes of you for near fifteen years, son." 

Fidel didn't answer, but stared stonily ahead.

"Your father is really—_anxious _to see you, Fidel."

No answer.

Boba quickly broke in before the man could continue. "I assume my employer has a means of transportation for me?"

The elderly caretaker bobbed his head. "Yessir, if you'll just follow."

Boba had a feeling a dread in his stomach. He had not seen one speeder upon landing in this particular spaceport. Just, he shuddered inwardly, domesticated riding mounts. And he had a niggling feeling that he and Fidel were probably going to have to ride one of them… The wrinkle-faced caretaker stopped in front of two tacked up, stocky looking animals. "Here are your mounts, Sir."

"Why don't I just use a speeder?" Boba all but growled, not at all liking the prospect of riding an animal who, unlike a machine, had a mine of its own.

"Well Sir, normally we would have a speeder for you, but this is the week of the Celebration of the Cosmos, in which we, the population of Cannat, Corellia honor our planet by refraining to use transportation that pollutes her atmosphere."

"You allowed me to land here," Boba pointed out bluntly.

"Yes. Unfortunately, we are unable to completely restrict ships from landing here. Nowadays the Celebration consists only of refraining from using speeders."

Taking the unexpected situation in stride, Boba nodded.

"Master Masdon's farm is—"

"I do not need directions." The caretaker clamped his mouth shut and watched silently as Boba shoved Fidel unceremoniously into a saddle. "Goodbye, Sir."

Boba didn't answer as he mounted his own animal and started off.

* * *

The steady clop of the riding mount's hooves was the only thing breaking the silence. Boba estimated that they had been traveling steadily for about an hour now and—though he was loath to admit it—he was beginning to enjoy it. The Sadains, their mounts, were stocky creatures, with a single, large nostril in the front of their faces. They were not the most pretty creatures to look at, but they certainly made for a smooth ride. 

Boba sat up straighter in his saddle as he finally saw his destination. Clucking to Sadains to pick up their pace, Boba felt a deep sense of relief that his job was practically over.

The sun was setting when Boba made it to Carl Masdon's mansion. Before he could dismount, Carl himself came striding down the front steps, followed closely by five rough-looking men.

"Fett, I see you've found my son. Your payment has been transferred into your account."

Boba took a moment to check. He nodded. Masdon nodded back, obviously dismissing him before turning to his employees and growled, "Get him."

The men didn't have to be told twice. Grinning with sickening anticipation, they converged on Fidel's Sadain and roughly drug him from it. The Sadain's eyes rolled wildly at the commotion.

Boba watched detachedly as the men began roughing Fidel up. The elder Masdon glanced at Boba. "You can leave now, Fett." Boba didn't give the man the honor of a reply, instead turning his Sadain around and steering it towards the spaceport.

* * *

Fidel braced himself with grim determination in anticipation of what was to come. His father was smiling at him in a sadistic way that made him want to cringe. But he wouldn't give him that pleasure. "Fidel, it has been a long time. Much too long. In fact, while you were so childishly trying to run away your dear mother passed away." 

Fidel blinked his eyes in shock of what his father said.

"Mom's gone?"

The question came from him without any conscious thought. His Mom, gone? Fidel felt a large ache begin to pulse in his chest. His "father" laughed humorlessly.

"Oh yes, Fidel. She broke her neck while _trying_ riding her Sadain. Fortunate, really. Her medical bills were beginning to inconvienece me—"

"Don't you _dare_ talk about Mom like she was a nuisance!" Fidel snarled hatefully. His mother may have always been sickly, but she was--had been--the kindest person in the galaxy.

"But, you see, she was. It's terribly sad that you inherited that trait from her," Carl said smoothly, not in the least bit intimidated by his son's anger. "And _you_, must be taken care of as well. Though your fate will be much more painful than hers."

Ice-cold clarity washed over Fidel. "You murdered her, didn't you?" He managed to choke out.

"Ridding humanity of an irritant is never considered murder, Fidel," Carl said, a dark smile appearing on his face.

Snarling in rage, Fidel tried to attack his father, to pour all his misery onto the man that had killed his Mother, the only person who had truly loved him. He failed miserably. With a few laughs the five men grabbed his arms, one of them viciously punching him in the face. Fidel tasted blood where his lip had been cut by his teeth.

Before him stood his father. Carl Masdon took out his blaster with exaggerated slowness and began inspecting it. Then shoving it back into its holster spun on his heel and began walking towards a large barn. "Bring him."

With many curses and punches the band of men drug a struggling Fidel to the structure. The thugs blows were beginning to affect Fidel as one particularly hard one left stars in his vision.

"That's enough."

The ruffians immediately stopped their beating and dropped Fidel to the ground.  
Fidel lay there for a second, willing the dancing, black dots to disappear from his vision. Gasping slightly, he raised his head and suddenly all breath was stolen from his body. In front of him stood his father, looking ghostly and demonic in the growing twilight. And behind him stood a spindly structure, its black silhouette sharp against the fading blue sky. Gallows.

Fidel had always been afraid of dying by asphyxiation. For as long as he could remember, he had been frightened, terrified even, of choking to death.

And his father knew it and was planning on executing the worst of Fidel's nightmares.

"You know what to do, boys."

With delightedly evil grins on their faces, Carl's goons roughly shoved Fidel up the steps to the gallows. His breath was coming in desperately fast gulps as he tried not to panic.

"Now, boys, I'll do the honor."

Fidel watched in fascinated disbelief as his father slowly walked up the steps to do the "honor"—which he knew would be placing the noose around Fidel's neck, and then dropping the floor out from under him.

"So long, Fidel," Carl sneered, "It's been fun—"

There was a sudden whine. One of Carl's five thugs dropped to the ground with a hole smoking in his chest. The other four stared at the body stupidly for minute before realizing what was going on. Diving for cover, the four men whipped out their blasters and began snapping off shots, trying to get a lock on the unseen assailant. Fidel glanced at Carl to find that his "father" was beating a rather hasty retreat towards the house. One of the thugs gave a shrill scream as a blaster bolt connected with his stomach. Fidel didn't hear it: he was too busy charging after the man that killed his mother.

* * *

Three shots, three kills. Boba sighed. This was almost _too_ easy.

* * *

Fidel had caught up to Carl in a matter of seconds. Mentally thanking Fett for securing his hands in front of him, Fidel tackled Carl roughly. Managing to dislodge Fidel Carl fumbled around in his waistcoat for his blaster, wheezing heavily. Fidel leaped up from the ground and slammed his fist into Carl's face, wincing slightly as he felt his knuckle connect with bone.  
There was a sudden, pain-filled howl before a fist suddenly connected with Fidel's stomach. The pain drove Fidel to his knees with the effort of trying to suck air into unwilling lungs. There was an audible click of the safety being taken off a blaster. Fidel found himself staring into the business end of Carl's blaster. 

"Well Fidel, you managed to yet again mess up my plans. But this time will be your last," Carl growled, a satisfied sneer coming across his face.

Fidel's eyes burned intensely. There was no way in Mustafar that he was going to let his mother's death go unavenged. With an animal-like snarl Fidel shot to his feet and with a desperation born of a desire for revenge, and yanked the blaster out of Carl's hands. Within the next two seconds, Carl Masdon was dead.

* * *

The corpses of the five ruffians lay on the ground smoking gently, the acrid smell of burnt flesh and discharged blaster hanging pungently in the air. Fidel carefully picked his way around the bodies until he stood in front of the armoured man in front of him. Fidel nodded his head in Boba's direction, the gratitude in his eyes speaking louder than any words could. Boba, in turn inclined his head slowly before turning around and mounting his Sadain. Kicking his heels into the animal's sides, Boba gently clucked at the creature before riding off into the night.

* * *

_Yes! It's finally over! Feedback is appreciated!_  



End file.
